It all starts in the mind

Revolver-ution

2012-02-09T19:56:00.000+05:30

This article was submitted for a competition at SIBM, Pune and as expected didn't win any award. I searched for the winning article, but didn't get the link. So, here it goes!!

I dream. I dream of a nationwhere the 73% of the rural population will have complete access to not justFacebook, Twitter and Youtube but also to food, clothing and shelter. If notfor personal experience, the statement would have been just as bland as therice water that these rural people consume for their only two meals of the day.I was on one of my biking trips in interior Orissa, burning the high-pricedpetrol for the sheer thrill of adventure, when I came across barrages ofvillages living without electricity. People were not ignorant anymore. Thoughthe mobile revolution had reached them, there was no electricity. A basicquestion that arose was from where did they manage a source of electricity tocharge these mobiles? They did, apparently, with car batteries! Sadly enough,they weren’t exposed to what the even Egyptian civilization was aware of –electricity. They survived with knowledge that a world of its own existedoutside the periphery of their village and that, that world needs marijuana theyproduced - their only source of income. Blame the middlemen because ignoranceis bliss – these people have no idea how much the green grass is sold for, tothe sophisticated brown people, in the black market.

I dream. I dream of a day when I don’t need to fill upthe caste/religion field on any application form. I want to be identified forthe person that I am, than for where I come from. I want a reservation-freecountry where reservation is restricted to bus/train/airline/movie only. Tomake it happen in this country where it is easy to find a liquor shop, butdifficult to find a school, the hypothesis will never hold true. Withinter-caste/inter-religious marriages taking place at enormous rates like neverbefore, we could envision a reservation-free country in the near future.

I dream. I dream of a free society – a society whereeducation liberates the mind. A city is brimming with its engineers, yetquestions about the quality of production always loom large. The terms educatedand literate are confused, cramped and presented as one entity known as aresponsible citizen. We have a lot of degree-giving colleges paying less heedto the subject of graduation. And only a handful of these colleges teach,inspire and make the students achieve in a profession that they choose to. Withnumbers demanding most importance, all the pseudo-educationalists want toreduce the demand-supply gap. But no one realises the underlying fact that amere reduction is not what is needed. As the wake-up call has come late, thegovernment is taking its time to react to the urge of educating its citizensbetter. The result: there has been a clamour of IITs and IIMs in the market.Without further dilution, things should get better once we focus on grass-rootlevel primary education. The young generation of today has the responsibilityof creating a better atmosphere for the next generation’s sustenance. The keyto achieve this goal is through education. Although the educational reformshave been taking shape in modest speed only, it is, positively, the only hopethat the country banks on for a better tomorrow.

I dream. I dream of a day when I don’t have to feelcorrupt, as a citizen invading his own country. I am asked to pay a bribe toevade a ruthless punishment, for no mistake of mine. I am forced to berepressed in front of bureaucracy and accept that he is the master. My goodcandidate whom I vote for never wins. I am yelled at if I don’t break thetraffic rules, I am rebuked, if I kiss my girl in public but those are theheroes who without a worry piss in public! I am caught in between two worlds –the world in which this is the country every businessman wants to make money inand the world in which this country is just a piece of land, with land beingjust a euphemism. When I invade my own country, why won’t the others? Takingcue from “Atlas Shrugged”, all the policy-makers think that there is no way torule innocent people. The only power any government has is the power to take onthe criminals. When there aren’t enough criminals, they make laws and policiesto create new criminals. With our government “embracing” many a thing underCrime, it becomes impossible to live without breaking a few laws. And bybreaking those laws, we become the newest members of the corrupt system. Andthat is how we invade our own country. We need policy changes – the root causeof all corrupt and not a bill to bring the corrupt to the court-of-law. Becauseonce the corrupt are brought in to the court-of-law, they have their corruptconnections to be let out scot-free.

I dream. I dream of a day when I don’t have to feelthe ire of regionalism in the country. A person from the South of the countryis not treated as one’s next of kin in the North and vice-versa, while theEast-West unity exists only as a global cultural phenomenon and not within thecountry. The phrase of Kashmir-to-Kanyakumari may no longer exist if enoughattention is not given to the plight of the Kashmiris, the real sufferers inthis tug of war. Arunachal Pradesh continues to remain a state of ambiguity tothe rest of the country. We shouldn’t resent the fact that we cannot and didnot do much about it, if and when the State slips out of our hands and becomesrightfully separate. The number of political parties outnumbers the stars on aclear night sky. And the major reason to it is the state and religion divide.Barring a few, every party follows the same ideology – Divide the countrymenand rule them. The architects of Indian Constitution might have borrowed keyprinciples from the British, but what our politicians also inherited alongsidethe constitutional principles, is the “Divide and Rule” policy. Till date, ourlack of unity alone has paved ways to numerous internal problems and external threats.Remember, our grandfathers fought for the country’s independence and won itbecause of their unity and the time has come for us to bring it back ondisplay, even if it is as a payback for the mess that we ourselves have done tothe country since then.

In the near future, I dream of a nation that will befree from the malaises and will be a united nation. Near future is all that wecare for, based on which we forget the present. To whom have we left theresponsibility of the present to be taken care of? To the ones who think thatthe present status will/should never change? If it has to change, they have tobe changed and we will bring that change. This country has the largest numberof youngster population in the world and young blood is boiling, listening toall the tantrums that they throw at us. I am one of them and I am that change.They hinder in my way of leading my life. They don’t give me what I deserve,but they take from me what they don’t deserve and what is rightfully mine. Wecaused a mini-revolution in the last six months. They have seen what happenedin the Middle-East, what the youth is capable of and yet they turn a blind eyeon us. We, the educated, the well-informed and well-connected youth are capableof changing the face of the nation – to bring about a Yuvalution to carryforward my life. Because, I care for this country and for its future.

Crickonomics

2011-12-28T11:05:00.001+05:30

The Growth Story:

Year	1989	1990	1991	1992	1993	1994	1995	1996	1997	1998	1999
GDP Growth Rate	5.95	5.53	1.06	5.48	4.77	6.65	7.57	7.56	4.05	6.19	7.39

The table shows the Indian GDP Growth Rate, from the period just before liberalization till date. A decent growth rate of 5.95% slowly deteriorated to 1.06% in 1991. Economists strongly argue that the Indian government went bankrupt and there was no other option than to liberalize. Bring in foreign investments to avoid bankruptcy and fuel growth was the mantra that was followed. With the luckiest stars in place, the move worked wonders for the economy. From thereon, the Indian economy started to shape into a stable upward curve until the software services crisis happened in 2000. Growth was hit for a couple of years, but the economy recovered not only sooner, but a lot sturdier.

Year	2000	2001	2002	2003	2004	2005	2006	2007	2008	2009	2010
GDP Growth Rate	4.03	5.22	3.77	8.37	8.28	9.32	9.27	9.82	4.93	9.1	9.72

With high growth during the period 2003-07, mainly powered by the software industry, there was a paradigm shift in the way the world looked at India. 2008 brought recession along with it, fueled by the US sub-prime crisis, but the Indian growth story remained robust. It did dip below 5%, but fared a lot better than many developed economies. A mighty recovery in 2009-10 and awaiting a double-dip in 2011, thanks to Eurozone crisis, has once again made the economists burn the midnight oil with their Excel sheets to find a way out.

The Sachin Growth Story:

Year	1989	1990	1991	1992	1993	1994	1995	1996	1997	1998	1999
Batting Average	35.8	41.4	19.5	41.9	91.4	70.0	29.0	41.5	62.5	80.8	68.0

The date was 15^th November 1989. Indian GDP was struggling to grow at 5.95%, when Test cap no. 187 took field. He played just six innings that year with a modest average of 35.83 runs. The next year, he hit his first hundred against England and, to tell you the truth, the whole of India was watching/reading him play. Everyone was talking about this wonder-kid Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar and since Indians were busy discussing cricket, our GDP growth rate slumped to 5.53%, the next year.

In 1992, his performance got better with an average of 42 and so did India’s GDP - it grew at 5.48%. 1993 became the first feared year for the Indian economy - Sachin showered his blessings on fans with an impeccable performance with the bat, scoring at 91.43 runs per innings. Indian fans were delighted. They stopped working plainly because they were happy and could only talk about Sachin. As expected, Indian GDP growth rate declined to 4.77%. The happy period continued to 1994, where the fans were, now, enjoying their work alongside Sachin’s scoring rate at 70 runs per innings. There were a few negative sentiments when he once got out at 96 against SL in Bangalore, but that was brushed aside. The new face of Indian cricket kept people happy and the economy grew at 6.65%.

It was 1995 when Sachin got married. Fans respected his privacy and the economy grew at 7.57% irrespective of his menial average of 29. The next year, Sachin came back to action to score at 42 runs per innings and the economy steadily grew at the same rate as the previous year. 1997 became the second feared year for the Indian economy – Sachin averaged 62 runs per innings and all Indians were caught guilty, watching him live on TV. Indian growth rate tumbled to 4%. The God of Cricket saw what was happening and offered a deal to his fans. He delivered at staggering 81 runs per innings in 1998 and the fans responded by working hard to push the growth rate to 6.2%. 1999 was even better, the economy got better to grow at 7.4%.

The year was 1991 when Sachin started to become a showstopper in the national fan-following arena. They watched him play, every ball of every test match and much to their dismay, he didn’t perform well. Indian fans were let down and devastated. They fell for the early show of brilliance and let their economy totter to grow at 1.06% that year. Economists said that the country went bankrupt and that is why they had to open the gates for privatization. But, huge expectations on Sachin and a paltry show by him with an average of 19.50 led to the economy debacle. Now you know how Sachin helped in liberalization of the Indian economy.

Year	2000	2001	2002	2003	2004	2005	2006	2007	2008	2009	2010
Batting Average	63.8	62.6	55.6	17.0	91.5	44.4	24.2	55.4	48.3	67.6	78.1

Cometh a new century, the fans went back on their words. Sachin delivered, yet the growth rate declined. The ups and downs disagreement continued for a while until 2003, when the fans lost interest in the game as Sachin’s average slumped to 17 for the year. Because of his under-performance, people stopped watching cricket and - would you believe it – Indian economy grew at 8.37%. For the first time, it had crossed 8% in the past 20 years. Sachin cherished this growth and he made his fans happy next year by scoring at 92 runs per innings, with almost three double hundreds.

The tussle went on for a while until 2008, when recession happened. Sachin’s inconsistent performance in the past few years left the fans upset and caused recession in the world. With back-to-back stellar performances which motivated the fans, Sachin helped the Indian economy grow above 9% in 2009 and 2010. However, the gloom around his 100^th century has caused huge uproar in Europe and America and talks of a double-dip have surfaced. For the betterment for the world economy, let alone Indian, the earlier the 100^th century comes, better are the chances to escape the double-dip.

Reports all around the world say that Indian economy will grow at unprecedented rate in the coming future. Their prediction could be right. Half of the Indian population will stop watching cricket and start working, once he retires.

My Green Top Story

2011-12-13T10:47:00.000+05:30

Everwondered what it feels like to play on a green top? The green top hailed allover the world as the toughest of the pitches to play on. There is no homeadvantage involved; just toss advantage. Win the toss and put the opposition into bat. Bring in your fiery fast bowlers to swing the red cherry in ways thatreminiscence the batsman their shameful failures of tendering their kindergartenswing. It is so magical a strip that, one hardly finds the difference betweenthe pitch and the ground. It is almost like a park where the bowlers areplaying “Ringa Ringa Roses” with the batsmen and “all (wickets) fall down”.

We havegreen tops in India too. Flabbergasted by the previous statement? These greentops are the ones that we play our school tournaments on. The green mat spreadto three-fourths of the pitch and in which a leg spinner can garner betterbounce than a medium-pacer. And how does it feel to take a wicket in the secondball of your career – out of the green top. For most part of my tennis-ballcricket career, I was a wicket-keeper; probably because I used to have goodreflexes and also because I like to sledge a lot. But, when it was time to playwith a red cherry, I always wanted to bowl. A part of the reason I took upbowling was because my former tennis-ball bowlers couldn’t control the seam andit was getting difficult for me to shield away from the bruises. But the mainreason was, I wanted that rugged attention that a fast-bowler gets when he runsinto bowl and the crowd goes “oooooooooo000000ooooooooooh”. Bowling with anupright seam and making the ball talk was what I had always wanted to do andimagined myself doing.

Thisincident dates back to 1999, when I took my run-up to bowl the first ball of mycareer. Bowling to a Right-handed batsman, I imagined myself to be GlennMcGrath and bowled on the goodlength-off stump line, pitching on the seam andthe ball deviated a few degrees towards the slip cordon crossing the batsman byhis chest. The batsman was as amazed as I was, tapped the green mat, where hefound a one-rupee coin on which I had pitched the ball. Mid-on comes andencourages me. “It was a neat out-swinger” says the umpire. Impressed. Firstball of your career and you caused panic in the dressing room.

Secondball. Pressure building up. I ran into bowl not knowing how I was holding theseam and where the shiny side was. I pitched on the same one-rupee coin, butthis time the ball moved into the batsman. With my Karizma ZMR top-speed of140kmph, he was struck plumb in front. The whole lot of us appealed“Howzzat???” and without a doubt, the umpire raised the finger that all batsmendread. The crowd erupted in joy. Thus a Wicket-keeper turns a Bowler! And theprolific batsman couldn’t believe the amount of swing that I could muster. Ibecame a two-ball hero because that was one wicket we all wanted desperately. Ifinish that over with great zeal and enthusiasm.

Afterthe over, I stepped out of the rope to put my pads and gloves on, when Dravidasked to steam-in with another couple of overs on the green top to castle theNew Zealand team before lunch. I obliged him, telling my captain Azharuddinabout Dravid’s astute decision. Christchurch was one heck of a green top tobowl on and the NZ were all-out for a menial score. Harsha Bhogle termed me asthe next superstar of Indian cricket and without an option Richie Benaud agreedto it. When I walked out of the field leading the team, I showed the crowd mytest cap that I got from Sachin at the start of the match. It was an inningsvictory for us and the next week’s Sportstar carried my bowling action as theStarposter.

All through our childhoods, we all dream,nothing wrong in it. But how many of us take that dream to the next level? Ido. I still dream playing in Indian XI, especially when sitting in a lecturewhere I don’t understand anything about why the strategic potential of acutting-edge throughput should satisfy the market demand!!

Naneghat Trip

2011-12-10T20:56:00.000+05:30

This post appeared first on CoolAge in two parts. You can check it out at the following links:
http://www.coolage.in/2011/12/05/naneghat-trip-part-one/
http://www.coolage.in/2011/12/07/naneghat-trip-part-two/

The Iranian chai at Matunga with its unique flavour, sensation and aroma clicked active that part of the brain, which had been dormant for months. These months, they left us bewildered with Macroeconomics, Accounting, Supply Chain, et al. And we were still fighting within our own selves to find a way out. The decision to trek in the Western Ghats aroused the butterflies in the bellies and we set out to search for the lost cave atop a hill. The trek team consisted of Debashree, Kartik, Rajeev, Vaibhav and, yours truly, of course. We reached back our respective hostels at 0100 hours, 27th November 2011, 37 hours after our final exams. With cricket, South Bombay heroics and multi-cuisine luncheons, our systems pleaded for some sleep after a hectic exam schedule. But, the fire to explore more, kept us detached from hitting the sack as frequently as possible.

All of us, barring the vibrant Vaibhav, slept for 2 hours only, as we had planned to start at 0400 hours from our hostels to take the first train to Kalyan. Probably, the first time something was executed on time despite having a girl in the team. We reached Kalyan by 0530 hours bang on, and en route we were greeted by hot water disguised as chai in Dombivili station. We waited for the Shirdi bus to start and as the normal Indians that we are, three of us adjusted in the bus seat capacitated for two. Finally, when the bus did start at 0645 hours, we felt overwhelmingly blessed. The bus conductor was super-confident of where the foothills of Naneghat started which he said in his fluent Marathi that we decoded into Hindi and understood later, as his willingness to help us out. As luck would have it, we crossed the foothills of "Naneghat" at around 0800 hours, and had to ask the conductor to stop the bus. One can easily spot the difference between a super-confident man and an over-confident man; a super-confident man says he saw a time machine land here in this village; an over-confident man says that he made that time machine land in that village. Our conductor turned from a super-confident man to an over-confident man and didn't stop the bus and kept on reassuring us that the destination is further down the road. After half hour of further travel and still no signs of Naneghat, added along with some public venting of pressure, he sheepishly accepted that we have crossed the point. With no guts to throw swearing gaalis on a government employee in the middle of a Maratha village, we religiously got down and then hurled the E/C gaalis at him, after the bus left, of course.

Standing in the middle of the road, all that we could see was the Grand Canyon-structured, air-cut mountains of the Western Ghats. We were 15 km ahead of our starting point and we were told to wait for a truck or a jeep that will take us back to the trekking point. With some assistance from the local Police post, we boarded a truck that was going in our desired direction. Five of us in the small driver cabin, we were six in all, the driver included. With twisted necks and pressurized limbs, we reached our trek's starting point at 0930 hours. What should have been a cakewalk was achieved with some bum-paining efforts and it took us such a long time to reach the starting point. And what lay ahead was a search to reach the long-forgotten cave.

So, we reached the foothills of Naneghat. We started walking along the only available path and were met by a stream-bed. As rocky it can get, the Woodlands did come into the picture and was a major assistance in trekking. Google terms this trek as an "Easy" one, but as one would have it, we had to turn it the other way- "Difficult". We followed the bed of rocks and with each meter the slope was increasing by a good fraction of a degree. There were places where tan θ was put to shame while we were on our fours. And what amazed us the most was, each of us, wherever we saw, deciphered a path that could take us to the top. We did reach the top and when we did, it was only to discover that there was another, further higher. The slope was ever increasing and was indirectly proportional to the amount of water we were carrying.

We reached a second top and by that time, we were sure that we were off-track and by no means would we reach the cave. Taking inspiration from Columbus, we set to discover a new cave/peak/place. We set a target and promised ourselves that we will trek until 1230 pm. Peak after peak we went and finally we saw the biggest of the peaks. Life becomes a lot easier when we know where we have to reach, but it becomes a lot interesting when we realize that we will reach somewhere, no matter when and how. And so did we reach the peak, better than everything that we had come across and when one looks back at the trails, it's just amazing to feel that we have trekked so far.
It felt great to be there with complete silence around, listening just to oneself. To feel that, that was life – The higher you grow, the more careful you must be. Everyone down there look so tiny to you, but when you fall, the greater the impact will be and sometimes unlucky enough that no one cares to remember you, after the fall. Just when my mind was taking the philosophical route, I realized that the pug didn't stop following us, after all. Rajeev's phone rang and thanks to you Vodafone, we realized that the peak wasn't a virgin one. Vaibhav came up with an idea of shooting an ad for Vodafone and there, with our minimum equipment (a digicam), we shot the ad (which in under process now and will be released soon).

After half hour's rest, we started to descend down. And the terrain was absolutely magical. With a torn shoe grip, Vaibhav was on the casualty side at most times. Forests, jungle, tough roots, spider webs, creaking insects, rattles of snakes, barrage of slippery rocks surrounded us and the only hope to reach a place of human habitation was the traffic sounds from the South-East, towards which we were moving. Even the descend wasn't as easy as we had presumed to be. We owed that to the difficult path that we had voluntarily taken and were we glad that we did- We could reach ground zero in an hour! Out on the highway, as we waited for transportation, there came the dusty truck again. Hitchhiking on the truck, we made our journey to the nearest dhaba, to pacify our hunger growls. After a delicious meal, luckily enough, we managed to get an auto to a nearest town. After two consecutive jeep drives we reached Kalyan, from where we boarded the local train. It was 1900 hours when we reached our hostels. A strong coffee and a Saridon shot the headache that I was carrying along and it was 0800, the next day, when I opened my eyes again.

If..

2011-12-05T23:39:00.000+05:30

We all dread one thing in life. Wish we could change it, but the least that we can expect is not to change our relationships, our lifestyles, our likes-dislikes and most importantly ourselves after the dreadful event. The scared truth is not thinking about what if you die and what will be life after that? On the contrary, the graver truth is what if your loved one dies and what will be life after that?

One certain thing is, that we all will die, one after the other. Who is next in line is the million dollar question! What amazes me more is why should we get close to someone, live with them, share happiness and sadness with them and finally see them die! Why do we put ourselves through those moments of happiness, when we know that we all are going to die one day? Is the juice worth the squeeze? The juice of sharing a life with a closed one and letting them die, while being helpless. Is it worth the pain that we experience afterwards? The pain of leading an uncertain life ahead and thinking that life would have been beautiful if only they didn’t leave us.

I would say yes and a sure yes. Those moments of closeness, care and joy are beyond the capacity that a single life can take. When the sheer absence can make you feel miserable, what would have happened if you hadn’t known that such a joy existed? The realms of change would have been impossible to handle and it is the mind that feels the way that you want it to feel. It’s very difficult to come out of pain and lead a life where the probability is certain that you will lose another loved one, sooner or later. But can you stop loving just because you know that even this loved one will cease to exist?

On the other hand, won’t it be wonderful if we take death by this collar and strangle it to death? Shall we live to live the only life that the Almighty blessed us with? To live it to the fullest and be ourselves, every moment of it. Even the closed one would expect the same from us. To live a life like you always wanted to live, because the last wish of anyone is that they should have lived a life that they would have wanted to!!

The man named Phillip Kotler

2011-09-24T10:08:00.001+05:30

B-schools students across India, barring few hate one name in their first term. No prizes for guessing Phillip Kotler. An economist right from birth, he haunts the marketing minds of the nation with his “Ctrl+C – Ctrl+V” therapy. “Ctrl+C – Ctrl+V”, a patented technology by the engineers of the SWITCH companies (Satyam, Wipro, Infosys, TCS, CTS & HCL), has risen to the issue and has filed an IPR breach suit against His Excellency Mr. Kotler in Bombay High Court. Last week when Aal-Baal news interviewed an anonymous student from a premier B-school in Mumbai, he said that “I didn’t find any difference between the chapters ‘Creating Brand Equity’ and ‘Setting Product Strategy’. All His Excellency has done is, use the “Ctrl+C – Ctrl+V”. He has also gone on to use “Ctrl+H” for replacing the word “Brand” with “Product”.”

With more analyses coming in from all over India, an independent report that is on a viral on Facebook states that, His Excellency didn’t get shortlisted in one of the leading FMCG company G&P for a Marketing profile. A probe into the issue revealed that they rejected him because he carried an Economics profile and had applied to a marketing role. On conditions of anonymity, another management student from Mumbai exposed that “All the chapters of his book states only one thing – Customer. When he preaches the concept that “Customer is the king”, which is widely known and is nothing but common sense, why doesn’t he deliver a right product to his own customers, that is us? He writes a book that is read by everyone, but none understand the content.”

A pass-out from the same School of Management said that he didn’t know how he coped up with the book which haunted him in his dreams. “I used to see His Excellency in my dreams and always got confused if I was the customer or the marketer. Give me one chapter; I can roll out 25 chapters from that.” With such high-yielding challenges, will His Excellency Phillip Kotler understand the strategic repositioning that his book needs to undergo? Will he advertise or promote the book after incorporating the cutting edge strategic changes and improve the brand name, ensuring that the brand equity doesn’t falter? Only time will tell, until then enjoy Marketing – one of the best subjects of Management.

Are we ready for another Uncle Sam?

2011-08-27T18:29:00.000+05:30

Introduction

There were things that we all knew. Before getting to the genesis of the whole USA (Under Skirt Adventure) business, let us get our facts right. USA’s current deficit is $14.398 trillion and it has to pay $500 million as interest every day. This debt sharing works out to $121957 per family. No one knows how USA has benchmarked the meaning for a family. A society which is famous for MILF, Naughty America and BangBros, how does one define a family per se?

Hail Uncle Sam

USA has a Debt Ceiling Act through which it can increase its debt cap by passing it in the Congress. Earlier the debt cap was raised to $14 trillion. Since, it has been breached; US is in a mood to increase it by another $3 trillion. The justification of this rise is given by the fact that they can pay back $2.4 trillion of that money, if they raise $3 trillion. It’s like when we have drunk 6 pegs of Vodka already and are on the brink of getting out. Yet, we still want to drink more. Thus we borrow money and drink some more and forget about returning the money when we come back to our normal senses. Guys, get out the Hangover2 soon!

Before stacking up all blame on USA, let us get back to history on how USA became such a powerful country. Founded in 1776 (as was Naughty America!!) a group of docile people pushed out the aborigine Indians and made it a Centre of Excellence. Years passed. After the First World War, a standard for money exchange became the need of the hour. Many companies came up with Gold as an answer, while USA went a step further and fixated a value for Gold in terms of dollar - $35 per ounce of Gold. Things spread slowly and international trade began to be done in Dollars. No one questioned the reason why it has to be done so, because they equated gold to dollars and no one questioned them the rationale behind the quantification. And why didn’t anyone question, was simple enough.

Games they play

Every World Bank President till date has been an American and USA has 17% quota in its Senate. And the minimum vote share required is 85% for any loan to be approved. Why would anyone go against the US, questioning their rationale? Dollar out of US (World Bank, IMF) flow into other countries, while other countries buy U.S Treasury Bonds (US’s euphemism for loans), US dollar starts to fall, while other countries try to protect the dollar. What is US doing?

In 1971, our Watergate hero Richard Nixon came out with a brilliant idea that the dollar will divorce gold. What he meant was dollar was just a currency from thereon with no value to back it up - Simple paper, worse than a Zimbabwean Rand. One incident after another, USA started feeling the pinch. S&P downgraded it from AAA to AA+ (Let us not laugh, we are a bloody BBB-). And the reasons for their rational behavior are as follows:

1. Unemployment rate was at 9.2%. Approximately 14 million people were unemployed which meant that the government has to spend on Social Security, a concept unheard of in India.

2. Long wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, which meant that they had to spend on military expenditure. Is this the reason why their presence in Libya is very limited?

3. Expenditure on medicare.

4. With an IQ of 125 (91 is a false news), George W Bush came up with beneficial tax cuts in 2001 and 2003. The years being specific because, in those respective years they went on wars with Afghanistan and Iraq.

5. Because of all these expenditures, USA is not able to invest in its physical and intellectual infrastructure which is hurting them a lot.

The current US deficit is around $1.3 trillion and everyone is watching on how the situation could improve. The dollar cycle will go on until the world perceives that the dollar has no value and a day will come when someone can take advantage of it. Who would it be?

How is India in a position to take advantage?

We are at 14^th position in terms of exposure to US debt – $41 billion, while our close friend China tops the chart with $1.5 trillion. But the Indian culture of consumption for satisfying needs than for luxury has insulated us very well. We are very protected by our economic culture of spending today’s income for tomorrow’s expense. There are a few countries like PIIGS (Portugal, Ireland, Italy, Greece and Spain) who are caught in the deficit spiral by spending tomorrow’s money today. Greece actually pledged their “Toll revenue” to get financial aid and the rest is history.

India has some positives to look for such as the decline in oil prices once the dollar depreciates, which will decrease the interest rates; increase in FIIs, etc. While there are a few negatives which include slowdown in FDI, pressure on Rupee to appreciate in turn affecting domestic markets as imports become cheaper, exports taking a blow due to dollar depreciation, we are, still, there to take advantage of the situation. But how? With fasts and incapable governments?

We are here to see a promising future when things outside are in a turmoil. There are few countries in the world which can actually turn things around. India being one among them can seize the situation and turn it around completely, if she wishes to!!

(With inputs from Anoop Sherlekar)

First peg of Bombay Life..

2011-08-13T15:59:00.001+05:30

Everyone was hooked onto their new laptops. Some were installing software, others skyping and the rest on facebook doing nothing. And that was my n^th call from Suhail to get ready to step out of the campus. When someone asks a question like who will be ranked the last in the class, hardly any hands shoot up. Everyone thinks that they won’t be the last, yet there is someone among them who will come last. Applying the same logic, no one was ready by 8 PM, yet everyone wanted to leave by the same time. In small groups of 3-4, we started for Kanjur Marg station, the nearest to the campus. It was indeed nearest when there is no traffic and one can easily take an auto to reach. But, talk about walking the whole distance, you would find no takers for it. Yet against all odds, 15 out of the 16 pseudo-intellectual kids made to the station by foot (myself, Dhruv, Kartik, Kaashi, Chotu, Parthiv, Nikhil, Boro, Debshree, Reshu, Hemangi, Tanya, Rajeev, Vijay, Suhail and Nisan). Vaibhav was smart enough to reach the station well in advance and paid the penalty by buying extra tickets (None returned the money yet, so eventually he paid for everyone’s travel). To add interesting information, there were a few guys at the station who winked at him, mistaking him to be a member of IITB’s “Saathi”.

The slow train to CST made its way into the second platform of the station. With 45 minutes chit-chat, we reached CST. The kids were so hungry that they did not even spare a stale samosa. They hogged down until the last tiny crumble, while the confusion of who is going where were sorted by big shots. As it happens in all the board room meetings, no conclusion was reached and the whole lot headed to Leopold’s, barring two mariners who went to the Marine Club. And to our surprise, Leopold’s was ready to accommodate a 15-member group without any fuss. Boys in the house were hell bent on getting drunk, while girls in the house just wanted a break out loose.

After placing the initial orders of beer towers, steak pasta, iced tea, burgers and coke, the first toast was raised for the first weekend in a month. The past month was strenuous like never before. The kids felt like the mayonnaise sauce that squeezes itself out of the tightly packed grilled buns. Once the boys started tilting towards the higher side, the dissertation on “how to identify Indians hailing from different parts of India based on a single word “B****C**D”” started. The good thing about being in a delightfully high company is that, one can easily reach a conclusion. It is quite true that great minds work cohesively when the right kind of motivation (beer) is provided.

One can’t keep the Punjabis in the house out for too long, without them singing their favorite numbers. With 7 Punjabis in the house, one has to oblige their wish to sing, even though the Leopold’s’ waiters thought otherwise. Then came the highlighted phase of the song session – we picked up common songs in Hindi and Tamil and thanks to ARR, we had quite a few numbers. Until then 5 beer towers were gulped down by 7 of them and 3 Coke cans by me. With a vote of thanks by “Bhaag DK Bose”, we exited Leopold’s and headed for Nariman Point.

One word – Absolute beauty. Moonlit Arabian Sea, waves crashing the rocks on which we were sitting, talking about places to visit and things to do, each of us actually felt the pulse of the moment. Knowingly or unknowingly we connected back to our past, thinking about our personal best times, sinking in the unrealistic reality of living life the way we always wanted to. The erstwhile Mumbai police came and warded us off as there were indications of high tide and that’s when it started drizzling. Bombay, chicken, beer (read coke), beach and rain with no deadlines to meet – A few of the blissful moments in life. We settled down along the rocky shore singing songs once again, this time with the aid of mobile phones.

Once the mood of the group changed to Back Street Boys, I, Kartik Calling Kartik (Kartik Dua), Debu (Debshree Buttercharjee), Hooda City Centre (Reshu Hooda) and Gullu (Vaibhav Gulati) left for a walk along the shore. Sensing the ramblings in our stomachs, we set out to pay a visit to Haji Ali Juice Centre. Apart from the Queens Necklace, the other roads in Bombay are also studded with lights, buildings and well-lit showrooms of Porche and Aston Martin. Disappointed in finding out that the juice centre to be closed, we headed straight to Shalimar Restaurant in Masjid. After having fulfilling Faloodas, we walked to the Masjid station to catch the first local train back to Kanjur Marg. En route, we discussed about why Bombay never sleeps (barbers were busy shaving at 4 am), existence of God, aliens and a lot other trivial stuffs. We reached the campus by 0515 am and hit our beds and for the first time in a month we had no idea of when to wake-up to reality. Cheers!!!

The Beginning of an End

2011-06-20T10:28:00.000+05:30

The Mayan calendar stops on a particular date in 2012. We are just a few months away if at all there really is anything serious on the cards. Scientific theories such as the magnetic poles shift, increase in solar flares, etc. can give an insight into how true the dreaded date can be. Natural disasters such as Earthquakes, Avalanches, Tsunamis, Floods, Famine, etc. can push us to the last step of human existence. But, nothing will force us to give up on humanity and the life after everyone’s death. That can be caused on to us, only by the US, for the US and of the

. May be that is why Democracy is a widespread tool to tackle the human race. Having said about the tool to tackle us (the people and not the country), another tool to destroy ourselves (probably a better word than US) is the Nuclear arsenal that we carry on our shoulders.

We have problems galore with six billion humans on a single planet. When one goes a few centuries back in time, the frequency of sighting a UFO was a lot higher than what it is now (nearly nil). When one goes a few millenniums back in time, the occurrence of an alien visit is corroborated with the evidences in the form of cave drawings, temples, monuments such as Pyramid, Stonehenge, Nasca plate, etc. which are spread sporadically on different places across the globe. The question is not about whether they really visited us in the past. Hands down they have! But the real question is why did they visit us? Was their race coming to an end? Were they searching for a place to live, sustain and transfer their learning to the untransformed human mind? Were there too many of their species like how we have right now on Earth, that they had to move out? If given the crunch, do we, the Earthly people, have an alternative to go somewhere else?

To defy the logic of the existence of extra-terrestrial life, all we have to do is to think from a bird’s view (or say a space ship’s view). We have nine planets in our Solar System and the closest place where we can find, nearest to the existence of life, is Mars. We don’t know anything about the other planets. Our Solar System is on one of the corners of our Galaxy – Milky Way. How many stars (For starters, Sun is a star) would be there in our Milky Way (approximately 200 billion stars) and how many planets (approximately 50 billion planets)? And imagine how many such Milky Way type galaxies are there in our Universe. And yet, we think we are alone in this Universe? Man has got some nerves!

Firstly we haven’t ascertained that we are the lone beings in our solar system. Secondly, the nearest star to our Earth that is proposed to have planets is at a distance of 10.5 lightyears away. That being, if one travels at the speed of light, one needs 10.5 years to reach that star which has a couple of planets. Finish the assignment there and then head for the next star. And to do all these things, we first need energy systems to propel our ships to travel at the speed of light. Considering human’s lifespan (the elaborated one, that one has in space as well), we need atleast two educated families to travel the ship. The children have to learn the trade from their parents, procreate and their offsprings have to keep on continuing the same for a lifetime and beyond a lifetime to ascertain that we are indeed alone or until we find somebody else.

All this is possible and we can do it to find alternate planet to live on, to do the things that the aliens did for us in the past, to teach them our findings and learning, to attain the Godly image, to make them worship us (some irrationals already do that here on Earth) and to live our extended lives. We, the humans can be aliens for someone else to whom they look up to.

For that we have to do two little things. One being, not to decimate ourselves with the Nuclear warheads pointing at each other. The current Political arrangements encourage a lot to see the “The End”, but will there be anyone to see it in real time. We have to avoid a Nuclear War at all costs lest we destroy ourselves before 2012. The other being, spending time, energy and money on finding an energy source, may be Nuclear Fusion (taking a cue from our own Sun) to travel through space.

We have a long way to go before we find a breakthrough and patience is the key. Every finding should be recorded and things have to be made easier for the next generation to carry on from where the current one leaves. If only the secrets of the Pyramids and other prominent structures were recorded, we wouldn’t have had to start from scratch again. Nevertheless, if we don’t pay heed to the first point, we have to start out all over again with the primitive man scraping a piece of wood unless we leave a Mentos behind. Once again, there will be races – F1, MotoGP, Tour de France (if France is found once again) and Stone-Copper-Iron-Nuclear Arms and we will be visited by aliens once again and wait for another 2012 or the Sun to give up.

Genesis of a habit

2011-06-15T11:49:00.000+05:30

One fine day in July 2009, we all decided to give the CAT, that year. Oh yeah! The (un)Common Admission Test that one, born in India, gives to fulfill one’s as well as one’s parents’ dream, not to dare to think beyond the IIMs. Five of us set ourselves to tame the CAT and get ourselves released from the pressure-filled Aluminium smelter. To bell the CAT, one had to be thorough with the concepts and, in the process, give a lot of mock tests, which, in turn, makes a mockery out of one’s self-respect. Concepts were at the back of our palms and we had the self-belief that concepts can be created out of thin air, like the lies that we create, while reporting to our managers at the end of our shifts. The only hitch was giving the mock tests as that required us to register ourselves with one of the premier coaching institutions. Spot one coaching institute in the whole of Jharsuguda, let alone a premier institute, and there will be torrential rains in Thar Desert.

After a bit of research and a lot of money out of our bank accounts, we made the brave decision to register ourselves with TIME, Rourkela, which was 134 km from Jharsuguda, on the ‘Diary Milk Silk’ road SH10. It was a Sunday, and a supposed off for the five of us. I was apprehensive to ride a bike for that much a distance as it was raining cats, dogs and tigers. I took the pillion seat in the Pulsar 200 behind Narayan, with Manish and Pratap on the Hunk, while Abir was the loner with the Pulsar 150. The raincoats were robust, and we never got wet inside until we stopped for our breakfast at a dhabha, some 30 km from Jharsuguda. With some hot Badas (Vada in South India) in our tummies, we reached Rourkela after two and a half hours.

Circling around Rourkela, with its sharp cuts, twists and turns, we finally reached the centre. To our amazement, we learnt that Abir had already enrolled for the course (which he revealed then) and our view of him changed from the innocent chap who drove in the rain without a raincoat, to the traitor who was already on his way to the IIMs. There was a mock test in the process and except Abir, none were eligible to take it as we had enrolled just then. We questioned our commitment in travelling 134 km every Sunday to take up the mock tests, but when we thought about our plight in the plant, we readily convinced ourselves that distance should not be an issue. The TIME-center person happily pocketed the money and told us that all we needed was an internet connection; that we could indeed take the tests from back home. And the reason being; CAT was to go online from that year. What a relief! Within a few seconds, money transferred hands and we were on our way to the IIMs.

Jharsuguda being a place without a proper theatre, we took balcony tickets in a theatre in Rourkela for a stupid movie “Shortcut”. Like the name of the movie, we took a shortcut half way through it and made our way to Moksha – the bar. Joined by a friend, Nitin, from SAIL, we had a nice time and it was five in the evening when we started back. Pratap was in no mood to ride and that was my cue to take reins of the Hunk. I did ride on that smooth road during our onward journey for a few kilometers, but, a whole of 134 km with Manish (he didn’t know to ride a bike then although he owns a Karizma now) as the pillion was an exasperating thought. It was fearsome, yet I enjoyed more than I thought I would. With a slight drizzle and the serene silhouette of the mountains, the ride was refreshing. The ride enchanted me and made me relax the nerves of a long ride.

As expected I didn’t make the cut in CAT ’09, although it was one of my best performances. And, as expected, Abir and Manish didn’t even bother to give the exam. And, as unexpected, Pratap cleared it and made it to IIM Lucknow. And then I understood why there was “Luck” in Lucknow.

The trip made a deep impact on me. Not because of the drive to bell the CAT, but the drive on the highways. Wasting no time, I bought a Royal Enfield Thunderbird and was on the same road “n” number of times to go for a coffee at the nearest Café Coffee Day. Biking, that started as a necessity, turned into a passion and became a habit. And 134 km was just a start to the life of biking thrills and frills as I was back on the road again and again..

Fast at Fault

2011-06-06T12:32:00.003+05:30

India has never invaded any country in the past 10000 years. It has been invaded by many countries, individuals, kings, paupers, you and me. Startling, isn’t it? When did you and I invade our own country? Let me just recall what I learnt in History. I learnt it because all that my History school teacher did was to spit on the first benchers when she delivered a lecture (Another main reason why I was a back-bencher). As far as I can remember, the Pandavas and Kauravas fought with each other for the kingdom. Although clear facts are not established if they came from somewhere or they belonged there. If one has to go into the past that is even before Mahabharata, there are these Ancient Aliens invasion, which theoretically proves the invasion.

Now, coming to known facts, there was this Alexander dude, who sooner or later succumbed to Indian melodramatic emotions and returned back. The movie-name starrer Ghazini, his mate Ghouri, et al. raided the then Bharat. Then came lots of other dynasties and along with them came from Mongolia, the Babar with his Mughal Empire. Not to take anything away from the Europeans, the Brits, French, Portuguese and their entourage, they made their presence felt. We have come a long way from all those things, and then we have the Chinese and Pakistani invasion.

In Pakistani terms, it is India’s invasion, proving our premise wrong. But, Pakistanis are never correct. They said, they didn’t have Osama-bin-Laden, but they had him safely guarded. They said they had nothing to do with Mumbai attacks, but, upcoming evidences show otherwise. The only thing that they said which came true was that they said that they won’t allow Sachin to hit his 100^th century against them. That came true despite dropping 6 chances and we solely have ourselves to blame for this mishap. Talking about China, since they feel that people from our North Eastern states resemble them in physical features, it’s their birthright to have a share of Arunachal Pradesh, as of now. We don’t have invasion problems from our other neighbouring countries such as Nepal, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka, but, if you and I can invade our country so well, they too will be soon drawn to the temptation.

For long now, we have had this corruption thing going on. I personally feel that it dates back even before those 10000 years of anti-invasion policy that we hold close to our heart. Then why crib about it now? Insensitive question to be asked, but, we have poor policies that encourage corruption. Let me site you an example from my own life. I bought my bike in Orissa where I registered under the “OR” code and paid Road Taxes worth Rs. 5000. It turned out that I had to shift base to Tamil Nadu. Now, I need to re-register the same bike under the code “TN” and pay an additional Road Tax of Rs. 5000. We are a country and everytime I move my base station, I need to pay more cash. Since, I already paid a lumpsome, why should I not pay only a handful and get done with the formalities? Why unnecessary hassles? I lose out more than what I can possibly earn. What is the shortcut here when a traffic cop holds you? No prizes for guessing, yet, we throw blatant tantrums against corruption.

It was just a small-scale example bolstering the argument on policies. Taking a cue from “Atlas Shrugged”, all the policy-makers think that there is no way to rule innocent people. The only power any government has is the power to take on criminals. When there aren’t enough criminals, they make laws and policies to make some. Our government declares so many things as crime that it becomes impossible to live without breaking laws. When we break laws we are susceptible to be corrupt. And that is how you and I invade our own country. We need policy changes, the root-cause of all corrupt, not a bill to bring the corrupt to the face the law, which again is corrupt. We need to stop invading our own country to stop others from invading. As long as we don’t address the base question, we will be invaded by countries, individuals, kings, paupers, you and me.

Bong-ed

2011-05-16T14:17:00.005+05:30

Trichy was as hot as it can get in the month of June; second only to the May. And thankfully, I wasn’t available at Trichy during May. The first day of counselling was smooth as I was one of the early visitors at NIT, Trichy and I made my choices that very first day. As expected, the campus was barren. I saw absolutely no girls as far as the horizon could curve. One could reach the end of the world, yet not find a single female species. I slowly started to realize the pulse of the sulking engineering life looming ahead. The next day, the results of counselling were announced and I had got into NIT Durgapur for Metallurgical Engineering. Heck! Where was that place now? And Metallurgy? What is that?

With a few like-minded would-be engineers around, I learnt that Durgapur and Metallurgy went hand-in-hand, like cigarette and smoke. I was first taken back by the unusual simile, but later on understood the pun intended. Discussing more on Bengali culture, food and Durgapur as a place; one particular information annulled every other drawback I had been hearing about the college. Bong girls. Their flamboyant attitude, innate beauty and contemporary elegance were nicely backed up with practical examples like the Sen Girls – Sushmita, Reema, Ria, Konkona, et al. I happened to have been inspired by a Tamil chick-flick called JJ, which was about a guy (hero played by R. Madhavan) searching for his love (heroine played by some beautiful female Bong actor) shot in Bengal. The magnificence of Kolkata scenes had enthralled me right then.

Until then I was of the opinion that the train to Kolkata travelled over the Howrah Bridge. On the contrary, I was gladly welcomed by the reality that one can even walk on the same, throw a couple of coins into River Hoogly and can have a look of the new Suspension Bridge across the river. All through my journey from Kolkata to Durgapur, I was intimidated by the Raxaul-bound crowd of Mithila Express. I was an independent bird, with wings of liberty. With a new-found fellow fresher in Sreenu, who was skeptical about ragging in the institute, I finally reached the place which had the scented aroma of iron ore and coal barracks.

I boarded the bus to the college which is known as R.E College in the local slang. I hadn’t sat in a public service bus (although run by private companies) as small as this and found it comparable to a matchbox on wheels. I was also astonished to note that there were no separate seat reservations for female passengers as one can find in TN buses. To my surprise, a beautiful Bong girl in a pink salwar, the most beautiful girl I have ever seen in my life, sat beside me. For a moment, I thought, this could not be true and to trust my fortune, instead of pinching myself, I pinched her by mistake. An angry grin, yes, an angry grin came across and I lauded myself for making Durgapur as the right choice.

If this was the case with luck when one lands for the first time in a city, I congratulated myself on how lucky things can get, thereon. To my utter dismay, which I came to discover much later, neither did I find that girl again in Durgapur, nor did I find that expected quality of beauty in Bong girls, in my four years’ stay sans the 1-2-3 pact that I had with Abi. Not knowing how abysmal my fortune would run, I started the journey in the Prantika-bound matchbox with an exciting career in heart and sleazy dreams in mind.

Mario to the Rescue

2011-05-11T10:27:00.003+05:30

Mario with the help of his brother Luigi reached Mumbai. He has some work to do now. After travelling all these seven stages he finally landed in Stage Eight. He travelled all these stages because he didn’t use time warp in the worlds 1-2 and 5-2. Such a waste of time and energy he thought to himself. But, his idea was very clear now. All the princesses that he had saved earlier were bogus ones and the real princess was hidden in the castle guarded by the dragons of all the dragons.

Having lots of castles in the Mumbai region, it was a very difficult task for Mario to shortlist the one castle and carry out the rescue operations. He thought of acquiring the CIA’s help in zeroing in on the castle to attack, but, then it struck him that Mumbai is bigger than Abbottabad. Although, India and Pakistan are on par in displaying their negligence on some foreign terror/US Navy Seals attacks, yet Indians atleast have guilt of shame. They have a pseudo-strong media to question them in the form Arnab Goswami, Karan Thappar, Pranab Roy, et al. in comparison to Pakistan. They are there to rip the politicians’ rears. So, Mario was convinced that he can’t take external help, but have to seek the intelligence expertise of Islander and the Contra brothers.

With much planning in the boardrooms of Powai, Mario and his intelligent army trickled their option down to the castle in Bandra. With CCTV’s footages, they learned that the house was guarded by not one, but, three main dragons of 3G nature. One-Two-Three. They were fast, furious and insanely lame. Mario learned more that they were popularly infamous in the country for their recent advertisements in the country. The common people wanted to kill themselves for watching those ads and the menace was increasingly disastrous.

Mario wanted to free the princess not for the fact that he had a liking for her, but, he wanted her to save her from the clutches of the 3G dragons. The 3G dragons moved in the city as a common man or common men in the avatar of the only stupid Bachchan.

Mario set out on his mission. No helicopters, but, he needed only Chilly Mushroom and CauliFLOWER Manchurians to gain height and firepower. He went into the Bandra castle. Minute by minute he was tested by the stupid Bachchan. He eliminated one-two and later NO IDEA how, he eliminated the third. He did a double favor to the people of the country and also to the princess Rai Bachchan by eliminating the 3G Bachchan and the people of the country lived happily ever after.

Appy Fizz time :)

2011-04-27T08:50:00.005+05:30

Every damn day was difficult with a daunting task ahead of me. The whole world who knew what I was after, called me a fool, lunatic and an insanely crazy person. I was in a very nice position with a fat pay-package is an MNC, when I thought that enough was enough. I called it a day after two years of hard-work and abruptly stopped my ascendency. What I set out next was a crazy idea if you are an Indian and know about the way it works here. The only best thing about India is that, when you go out in the battlefield, fighting for your most prized possession, with nothing in hand, you find yourself in a corner, with millions of better people in the same battlefield, eyeing the same prized possession.

Day in and Day out, I assiduously prepared for the D-day. One of my successful brothers once told me that the one who has never failed, can never taste success. On January 12^th, I failed. I failed because of Statistical errors or whatever reasons they were. My preparations were good, I gave my best and yet I failed. I failed miserably in the section which was my percentile booster in the previous editions. It was as if the world was mocking at me. I didn’t sleep for many subsequent days. May be I slept because of fatigue. Again, it was one of the toughest periods of my life. I pushed myself to the extent that I convinced myself saying that the worst was yet to come and with this in mind, I kept pushing myself forward.

Hard-work pays, but, only in instalments and never can you have all at once. The subsequent exams were disasters followed by calamities. For the first time in my life, I was unsure about myself. To the outside world and the social media I was known as the adventure-man, travelling far-off places with no intentions in mind. But, deep down inside, I was coming to terms with my failures, with a huge question of “What’s next?”

By God’s grace and I must say that by God’s grace, I cleared a couple of exams. Though not convincingly, I was ready to take up anything that I can lay my hands upon. On a beautiful Friday, SJMSoM gave me a call. I knew that it was my only chance to make it up for the lost ground and I told my dear one that I will make it, if they just gave me a call. Just one call and I will cover up my shoddy performances. To gain practice, I gave 6 real-time interviews before my panacea. I used up all my experience of bad interviews in the one that mattered the most. I gave it, and once I came outside the interview hall, I knew for myself that I nailed it. Exactly a month later, the results came on 27^th April and the final verdict was not different from what was expected. I stand to face the world of achieved something, but, a lot of hard-work was done by my family (mom, Subha, Sharanya) and friends (Sangeet, Abir, Alok, PPK, Adi, Shweta, Monica, Praveen sir) to keep me standing against a strong current across my face.

My IQ increased by 3 points, I learnt to smile a lot, I learnt to be serious in life, I became mentally stronger and most importantly, I learnt to deal with failures and not to accept defeat until I finally lost out and invariably, I learnt to celebrate life…….

Appreciate the journey, because it is always better than the destination.

Sutta..

2011-04-26T01:12:00.006+05:30

The cigarette was in my mouth. The urge to light it in front of her near the Prof. Canteen made me realize the importance that the cigarette gained over her. The cotton bud was tasteless, yet so soft. It took me back to the “Heat Transfer” class when my professor gave a problem to calculate the time taken for a cigarette to extinguish, while the tip is 810ºC with pre-determined values of latent heat of tobacco and length of the cigarette. The question carried on the onus of plotting the graph with MATLAB on varying lengths as well. Nevertheless, the one in my hand was the first one, out of my money. Two and a half bucks for a Navy Cut and the clear-cut path to cancer was sitting tightly between my lips. I lighted the match stick. It went out in a flash with the help of a strong breeze. I didn’t know the art of lighting a cigarette and I already was in my pre-final year. Struggling again, I tried, but, in vain. With ample shame, I asked the guy of the couple-next-bush to light it for me. He happily agreed and there went my first sutta into the bush and never came back - My first and the last cigarette.

Moral of the story: Never share three things in life: Underwear, girlfriend and first sutta.

A night-out at IIM-Lucknow..

2011-04-10T13:39:00.004+05:30

The bus from Kanpur dragged its bit out. The place I had to get down was Aal-Baal. Or that is what I got of the name, Alambagh. Lucknow was just 84 km from Kanpur and yet it takes two hours to reach the place. It was a bumpy ride and I could reason out why Uttar Pradesh is still in the BIMARU list. The rail connectivity between two important cities of the state was good, but the trains are never on time. Road connectivity was haywire. I saw railways crossings, like the ones in Bhurkhamunda village in Orissa, in NH25 connecting Kanpur and Lucknow. Construction of flyovers was on, but Gammon India would need their time to construct, maintain and collect their toll taxes.

Nevertheless, Aal-Baal came. Oops, Alambagh. It was a crowded market place and reminded me of Chandi Chowk, Delhi. Fighting all odds against the traffic, my friend Pratap finally got there to spot me. Vroom as we went and he showed me the railway station upfront. Trust me; it was one of the most beautiful Mughal architectures. It took my breath away, though my fellow Lucknow-ites where just whizzing past me, oblivious to the marvel, embellishing the place with pan flavoured red juice. As a part of the ritual, I had to pay my visit to Tunday Kababi at Aminabad. I never knew that, kebabs could actually melt. These Tunday kebabs, they did. Before we knew that it was 2000 hrs, 3 plates of kebabs vanished down our throats.

Pratap, then, told me of his plans of visiting the Janpath of Lucknow. On our way to the Janpath, one thing I noticed about Lucknow, reiterated by Pratap, was that the traffic signals at Lucknow do not work. Except the one I found in a busy market area. The signal near Vidhan Sabha did not work and so did the one near the Janpath of Lucknow. When I entered the Dr. Bhimarao Ambedkar Smarak in Gomati Nagar, I realized that it was not Janpath. It was Jannat. Elephant statues adorned the place; the haathi-senas were sculpted with red stone. Not only were there statues, but also bridges, structures, arches and various other portraits. It looked like Central Park of New York, although, my knowledge of the international hangout spot is only through hear-say. But, I felt that was the most justified way of describing Gomati Nagar’s flourished art work display - roads were wider; bridges over River Gomati and at fantastic speed on a motorcycle, the place didn’t look like the clichéd Uttar Pradesh.

We zoomed towards the prestigious Indian Institute of Management. A 15 km ride took us to the magnanimous school of management gurus, the fact being that it never seemed to come, until it really did. Carved out inside a dense forest, a passerby wouldn’t have an iota of knowledge of an IIM in that vicinity. We went in, and just like any other government institute the guards didn’t bother to awaken from their deep slumber. A peek into the ‘evergreen’ campus and I came to know that they do grow Grass which by popular thought was considered relaxing. Not to mention the inmates’ favorite code-word – “3.4” which translates to the 24 hours BSE (Booze Sutta Exchange) that is at 3.4 km from the main gate. Thanks to constant pestering, Pratap took me to Himanshu Rai’s residence. I wanted to break a glass or two, but there were other serious issues, like the Indian cricket team being slaughtered by chokers, to watch out for.

As we reached Pratap’s hostel room I headed straight for the common room, greeted by just 5 guys watching the high tension match. My question was “Are you nerds kidding me? Five is all the number that you could muster for this livewire drama?” Yet, one cord of similarity between an ordinary Indian and an IIM guy was “Why did Dhoni give that last over to Nehra?” Reasoning with the former question, my logical thought was to believe that these guys weren’t watching the match for obvious reasons: because of their everlasting assignments and quizzes. On the contrary, the real reason was that that it was a Saturday night and thus there was no better thing to do than to attain Moksha.

Every wing had a party zone and every party zone was filled with guys directing gaalis at girls (they had a better word starting with the alphabet “b”), professors, the nine-pointers (euphemism for c**k-suckers) and obviously their untalented friends who made it to IIM-A. The generic widespread frustration among the lot was how close they were to IIM-A, but on the note of grapes being sour, they boasted of a better placement statistics than their considered rival school. I had an awesome night-out and never felt out of place. I never had to introspect on the fact that I could not make it there, despite which we all belonged to the group of souls enjoying similarities in rock music, grabbing pegs of soda and banging our heads.

It was four in the morning when I took an auto-rickshaw to the railway station as my train back to Delhi was at 0525 hrs. It was a journey to remember and quite obviously from my past experiences, the train was late. When the perpetrating train did arrive, I took my seat, with no fellow passengers for company; I settled down to sleep, until I was awakened by a co-passenger in Kanpur.

He is immortal..

2011-03-21T11:53:00.003+05:30

I first saw Him in bits and pieces when the tournament started. But, when I saw His cover-drive, I became a die-hard fan of Him. Even in that match, when He got out the scoreboard read 99/1, soon, the team was reduced to 120/8. Fifteen years later, I saw Him with naked eyes and He was still the same person. No amount of adulation or pride can ever get to His head. I have seen ordinary mortals succumb to fanfare and the pride that they carry with them and perish, but, immortals have their own way.

Time and again He was tested. With injuries, with atheists’ ridiculous criticism, with God testing His own counterpart, but, He came out strong. He came out victorious. Five World Cups later when I see Him donning the dark blue jersey, not an ounce of the spirit to win the coveted cup has reduced. When, His team won the toss and the 39,000 people in the ground knew that He was going to come out and bless them with an avalanche of beautiful stokes, but He chose not to. The umpire didn’t hear the nick, so didn't the rest in the ground, yet, He walked back. The reviews would have helped reaching a decision on His return, yet, He displayed His integrity.

He came back to the field and was fielding in the opposite corner to where I was seated. Every ball that went towards Him was cheered. Every time He went near the ropes, six year olds to sixty year olds cheered His name. And He waved back. He knew He had disappointed them earlier in the day, but, a wave of His hands to the mad crowd made their day, if not years to come. Finally, in the last half hour of the game, He came towards our side of the ground. And we called out His name and He waved back. A man of His stature waved back to us and I had Goosebumps all over my hands. I realized that I can never realize what He is made of. So much pressure from millions around the globe, so much expectations and still He has His head on His shoulders. I don’t think that is humanly possible. I haven’t taken His name and still you know who He is. He is not the greatest because of His records, but, because of the person He is. He is God and I will sacrifice my life for Him and so will billion others.

Zoozoo vs Sachin!!

2011-03-19T14:27:00.003+05:30

The focus shifts to cricket for the last time before the world comes to an end in 2012 - One of the main reasons for its end being Sachin Tendulkar’s expected retirement. Aal-Baal News has strong rumours that Vodafone has been reported to be have cashed in on the big fish. In a bid to strengthen its market share in the 3G sector as well as the forthcoming 4G, Vodafone has initiated talks with the God of cricket. The Messiah of cricket, who has given respite to billions of cricket fans all over the world from poverty, corruption and suppression with his style, performance and charisma, has previously done ads with Airtel and Reliance in the same sector.

When Jithan Ramesh Welingkar of Ogilvy India was contacted over the issue, he was surprised on how the insider talks became so prominent. Blaming it on the Superman-3G-zoozooo for letting clandestine information out, he divulged certain important details exclusively to Aal-Baal News. Mr. Welingkar who shares the middle name with the run machine has conceded to the fact that they have zeroed in on Sachin, because, wherever he goes, people follow him; which in a way is Vodafone’s ex-marketing strategy. Elaborating on the “wherever”, he said that even when Sachin gets out, the whole team, batsman after batsman follows him back to the dressing room. “This is one pattern that can be unanimously seen over the past 20 years and it is still continuing. More than the billion followers of Sachin’s batting supremacy, it has always been his teammates who has consistently followed him over the years”, iterated Jithan.

When asked whether the Superman-3G-zoozoo will take a hit when Sachin’s ad takes the centre stage, Mr. Jithan said that they have a long time to go before formulating and roping in the resources. “Sachin is the person whom we follow, but, the pug which personified the network will be replaced by a dummy Indian team, which gets all-out before a special pooja is made in the nearby temple for the same cause not to happen.” opined Jithan. “He is our perfect representation and we at Ogilvy have tried and tested patterns.” explained the issue with an example of the recent India-South Africa World Cup match.

Aal-Baal News’ personal opinion on this issue is that Vodafone and Ogilvy has realized it better late than never. They thought that the Indian team will improvise on their mistakes and won’t follow the pattern for such a long time, but Ogilvy were consistently proved wrong. If the deal goes through, it will be the perfect stage to express why India loses every time Sachin scores big and finally zoozoo will have to work their ass off, if they have one, to survive competition from the original Superman.

Before Light

2011-01-13T23:24:00.004+05:30

This is a story that was not recorded, but, pure fiction. If it violates any Holy Book, I sincerely apologize for my ignorance. This is a Pilot. Kindly, share your comments.

It was cold outside. Science was nowhere to be seen, so were religions. The darkness creating a shadow of doubt if there will ever be light. Then out the blue, came the monologue, “Let there be light”.

God was scanning through his network to find the right place to create life. He was so bored after the “Big Bang”. Just that it has happened, there was nothing much interesting happenings in the cosmos. He bookmarked a few planets from different galaxies and started sculpting the various life forms. On a lottery basis, Earth’s life form was chosen to be made of Carbon. Planet Zrancia’s beings were that of Phosphorous; Germot’s were Silicon; Streghout’s were that of Nitrogen. And their respective periodic table elements were left to discovery. And more so that it was centered on their respective base element. That is, Carbon for Earthians, Phosphorous for Zrancians and so on. But, He made a mandatory clause of Oxygen being the breathing element.

Zrancia, Germot and Streghout made a head-start, as their version of Adam was not a fool like ours. The respective Adam didn’t eat their respective versions of apple and came out strong in the test. But, with time they also, one by one gave into temptation. The more they resisted, the powerful they became. The winners were endowed with the cosmic knowledge, they were ahead of time, and teleportation was their normal means of transport. Light was their toughest competitor, but, Earth still didn’t have their dominant life-form. God punished Earthians for giving into temptation.

After deep thought, God gave Earthians a chance made Man. Man was very soon visited by many of his cosmic counterparts. Their technology was so advanced that they manipulated their version of DNA to Carbon’s version. On the other hand, man was happy that he invented fire. The Extra-terrestrials taught man things that he portrayed to the outer world as if he had found them. Wheel was one of the examples of plagiarism and there were more to follow. Man ruled relentlessly and gave the Zrancians, Germots and Streghouts the name “Gods” and erased every source of their extra-terrestrial nature. With time, man became a slave to the tyranny of man himself. God started enjoying this play and thought to himself, “Let there be enough light to this drama and I must say that Man is the best creature I have made. He is just a Carbon copy!”

Sham(e)

2010-12-09T14:11:00.009+05:30

The “Digital generation” as we call ourselves is one of the most selfish generations to have resided on this planet. We don’t see what can be learnt from our Gen-Ex but, we google a lot of other things. Things have changed a lot in this age, that we feel that we don’t need anyone to support us. We feel that we are independent to lead our own lives, but, search for new virtual friends every day. We have so much digital security around us, but, still we feel so insecure about ourselves, looking for recognition in a virtual world.

Earlier, society was largely confined to the neighborhood. We used to get to know people when we venture out to play in the evenings. After school, bring your friends home and the respective mothers, catch-up with each other. There were no Saas-Bahu serials to discuss upon, but, exchange of cooking recipes and knowledge on religion were a part of the usual story. Dads came back in the evening with chocolates and ice-creams and obviously, weekends meant to play with GI-Joes and Hot Wheels. Life was uncomplicated. We knew people, we were happy in the real sense.

Things have changed and I don’t refute that the same things are being done by the kids of our generation and the succeeding one, but, only with a simple twist. The Facebook status goes saying, “Got a new GI-Joe, who wanna come and play”, and followed by “23 likes” and a few other comments. The Tech companies have made so much in-road that sensing your urge to play the particular game, they create online platforms and let you rot in it. There were no cell-phones, but, still we found our friends, but, now, the call is perennially on wait. These are just a few examples. But, the real question is where have we gone wrong? We have so much time, yet, we don’t spare a moment for each other. Why are we lacking the integral part of our integrity?

My view on this point is that we have moved away from religion. Taking a cue from a personal incident, a few years ago in an audition for the Literary Circle, NIT-D, I made it to the final round. There, I was asked a question, “If you were given a page in our magazine to write upon, what will be your genre?” I answered, “Spirituality”. I wasn’t paid much heed from thereon and was eventually not selected. I don’t say that I was not naïve, but, that was all I knew irrespective of the confusion, which religion to follow. Thinking from a magazine’s point of view, they were right in not selecting me because spirituality hardly sells (Deepak Chopra has got it in him).

But, neither do we learn from our elders. They have lots to offer – assiduousness, determination, security (financial, economical, emotional and spiritual) and lots more. But, we hardly seem to notice them all. We seek for a closure online. We try to be cool and look like a fool (obviously, copied from song lyrics). Are we are still happy – in a virtual world and in a virtual sense?

O-balm-ah -> The panacea

2010-11-06T21:59:00.005+05:30

Shahrukh Khan could have waited for 10 months to proclaim that he is not a terrorist. Barack Obama is in town and he is going to reside in the pristine Taj Mahal hotel in Bombay. Do Kasab and his forefathers have the balls now to target the targeted? May be they won’t, after all he is Barack Husein Obama and he also is not a terrorist (atleast presume him not to be). But, the whole confusion is what takes the centre-stage in the agenda of the meetings; be it economic ties (selling Nuclear technology to India), strategic ties (tell to China that India is better than them), military ties (respite to Pakistan-Kashmir issue) or the Uncommonwealth ties (India’s ties with Iran).

Economic ties: USofA cajoled India to sign the Nuclear deal promising to set-up blah-blah nuclear plants all over the country, but, took away the outsourcing jobs. American companies are free to set-up the units to produce power and bridge the power shortage that India is facing, but, God forbid, if any accident occurs the companies won’t take responsibility (that’s what the deal says). Planning to repeat a Bhopal tragedy? To protect American jobs, the outsourced Jagan to Jacob and Manish to Mark have to lose their jobs. And India said yes to it and reached a compromise on the economic ties. We were given only the cherry of the big-cake where the full cake was taken by the Americans. Could we expect to divide the cake properly on the so-called economic front?

Strategic and Military ties: You go to China, tell them, “Hu-bro, you gotta poke your nose into Kashmir and facilitate a solution”. Hu must have said, “Barack, my mate, first let us take Arunachal Pradesh from them and then we will talk about Kashmir”. I think Hu Jintao must have misunderstood “facilitate a solution” to “make Kashmir China’s”. And you come to India and tell us, “Man-paaji, you and China are pretty strong here in this region and we are anyhow cutting our ties with Pakistan. So, give Arunachal Pradesh to them and take Kashmir from Pakistan”. Does our netas have the balls to say, “Barack-ji, both Arunachal Pradesh and Kashmir belongs to India”? No, they don’t. They will nod their heads and ask Obama if his plate has to be refilled with Chicken butter masala.

Uncommonwealth ties: What is your problem, if India tags along with Iran for economic exchange? Dude, eventhough India makes the most-fuel-efficient cars and also the cheapest cars, we do need oil. You for the better part of the centuries had and have Iraq under control; you have so much oil that you can mix it with water and still not be bothered about it (Gulf of Mexico). But, we need someone who can sell oil to us behind the counters at Diwali discount. Next month we can ask for Bakrid discount followed by Christmas, New years and Maharasankranthi. We have our plans cut-out, but you wouldn’t allow us to prosper.

Obama dude, Watch “Robot (Enthiran)” Relax over here. Don’t worry about the recent resignations in your office; don’t worry that you didn’t bag Nobel Prize for Peace for the second time (although you have done your best); don’t worry about anything. This is India. Yehan pe sab kuch CHALTHA HAI!!! (Anything is acceptable)

My first sweater..

2010-10-21T12:37:00.004+05:30

The whole fury in the common room got over. People across the country got to a consensus that it’s each and everyone’s responsibility to extend their vacation until Diwali. I was the small town boy not understanding the dynamics that was taking the centre-stage. The mid-sems were causing abnormal bowel movements and cheating in the exams was not a part of the armory then. I was the plumpy 85-kg chap when I joined the institute who reduced to a 72-kg piece of meat over 3 months.

Come Durga Pujo, the vacations started with the most tiresome train journey defying the normal sleeping hours. Back in Chennai, people enquired about my place of study and the second question that followed was “Isn’t there a big Durga Ma temple in that place?” I used to laugh it off saying it’s so grand a temple that you must pay a visit. Durgapur doesn’t mean that it has the biggest Durga Ma temple, similar to Puri, does it have the biggest Puri?

The vacations weren’t extended to Diwali as the earlier consensus was supposed to. After a couple of weeks, I was back in West Bengal. Meanwhile, my Ramzan month fast continued and it was bad to be back again with nothing else to expect from life, but to be ragged as first years. But, I was proved wrong. There was something in the climate that was changed. The air was a lot cooler and was as mesmerizing as the Bengali girls (not the ones in college). A single t-shirt no longer sufficed. A type of clothing unheard of, made its way into my wardrobe – woolen clothes. My first sweater, my first razai and my first wind-cheater, all made special appearances. I was for the first time in my life introduced to the loveliest of all seasons – “Winter”. Hailing from a tropical coastal city, rains and a chill weather with the mercury stooping to 20⁰C was all the winter I had seen in my life.

This experience was very different. Roomates fighting for the electrical heaters, the foggy mornings (of course not caused by grass smoking), the hot teas, the pleasant weather, the spectacles getting blurred while coming out of the computer laboratory, playing cricket with woolen clothes on, not able to decipher a girl’s figure because of her over-sized woolen clothes, days getting shorter and absolute bliss while hanging out in the evening with friends. I miss Durga Pujo, I miss the change that it brings into human life. The sense of calmness and tranquility that prevails can’t be expressed in words, but can be felt and remembered for a very long time.

Lets Go!!!

2010-10-02T21:12:00.007+05:30

Some things can be changed, whilst some can’t and we call it the inherent nature of a person. From where does this inherent nature takes its genesis from? Cell? DNA? Genes? Who cares by the way as these things are very much restricted to geneticist. Who bothers about these issues as long as justice is delivered? Talking about justice, every person following the Indian politics talks if the justice was fair and square. I am not talking whether we are doing justice to ourselves by hosting the Common Wealth Games, but the Ram-Janmabhoomi-Babri-Masjid case.

I personally didn’t care what happened. I neither watched the live or the file coverage of the eagles preying on the carcasses nor read the glaring reports from newspapers, the next morning. I didn’t go to pray my Friday Jumma in the mosque not out of fear, but, to remain ignorant on the issue. Diplomacy is supporting both the causes, while I chose to be ignorant. My friend calls me up from Singapore to fret over wasting $15SING on the movie Enthiran (Robot) and the next conversation was whether the Babri-masjid’s justice was fair enough. I wasn’t worried if Lord Ram was born right at centre of the gravity of the geometric figure which is to be divided into three equal parts (although Mathematics says it can’t be), or if Babar built it to satisfy his barbaric needs. If the previous statement’s structure is considered, the analogy doesn’t seem to be right. On one hand, we have one of the Gods of Hinduism while an autocratic king on the other. And to say the least of all, they both have contributed immensely to what is known as India.

I don’t have an opinion on this case in particular, but, like every other Indian; I am entitled to have one. As a person who has been brought up in a Hindu-Islam mix culture, I can have a unique opinion of my own. The case was resolved after 49 years; 18 years after the demolition took place. Don’t you think, our judicial system is pretty slow? Or was it a conspiracy involved, to pass the judgment when Indians understood each other better? Had the judgment been made in the 20th century, would it have affected the harmony of India? Now, we the mature Indians passing comments on colored-terrorism, viz. the Saffron-terror and the Green-terror, isn’t it an irony that these colors are the constituent colors of our proud National Flag? Innocent blood has been shed on the streets of the disputed site over blame-games. Will God be ready to reside there or be ready to be ever born again (avatar) at that same place? It is not a victory for a group and a compromise for the other, but a reality show for the Rest of the World to deride on us. We have just given way too much fodder for them to feast upon, let us roll up our sleeves and stay united. Hey Media folks, that was to you too.

Questions galore will remain unanswered. But, God knows the best.

Baby, you like it?

2010-09-13T20:39:00.004+05:30

Cricket has for long caught the attention of the average Indian’s mind and body like nothing else. But, interesting statistics put cricket at second to none other than football in terms of team-sport viewership and analyses point the recent success to the advent of T20. Lot of history behind the 130 years old sport that the Englishmen gave birth to although; India’s innate Gilli-danda is proclaimed to be the genesis of this wonderful game.

History reminiscences about the unlimited-time Test match played once upon a time to the 60-overs ODIs. Till then, the marketing of the sport was dogmatic concerning only the aristocratic, but, in 1977, the Australian Kerry Packer involving Channel Nine turned things around with his Supertests involving a bunch of Australian delights against the World’s superstars under lights for the very first time in history. As an expected retaliation from any human congregation to changes, the Kerry-Packer series was amidst myriad controversies. The ACB (Australian Cricket Board) and the others who controlled the game then, rebuked the idea (What did they know that “An idea can change your life sirji”) and castigated it. Luckily, BCCI was not a part of that “others” group as we were still finding our feet in the deep waters of 60-overs ODIs.

Finance is the key to any market and when the ACB found themselves smooching bankruptcy, the only option that they had was to break-up with their narrow-minded thinking. Kerry either wasn’t doing that well to afford a holiday package in the Great Barrier Reefs, but, he was patient enough to envision beyond the horizon. As it all happened a deal was stuck to give Channel Nine exclusive telecast rights and autonomous power to market cricket in Australia.

West Indies won back-to-back World Cups in 1975 and 1979 and thanks to them that the helmet was invented in one of the Supertests played in 1977-78. Surprisingly from nowhere came the underdogs (or the Slumdogs??) lifting the 1983 coveted trophy for the first time. May be one good thing about cricket then was that, whatever you did, it went into the record books as “for the first time”. Four years later, the Asian sub-continent hosted the World Cup. Again, it was for the first time. In 1992, back Down Under, the World Cup was played with the colours replacing Whites and the white replacing the red cherry, for the first time.

Things happened and cricket a 50-over a side sport ,started attracting people from all over the world. Apart from The Ashes and the Indo – Pak series, the World Cup was the only other, much watched programme with respect to cricket. Cricket then went to a dormant phase where the routine took over the turbulence, until the Match-fixing controversy hit the scene in 2000. Again, for the first time a magnitude of such sorts was achieved in the sport. The Men-in-dark-blue went pale much before the 1996 World Cup and the meaning to the change in contrast of their jersey’s colour was understood by the average Indian, as late as 2000. A complete re-jig was done to save cricket and the retired-cricketers-turned-management-gurus were apprehensive over losing the billion Indians, if not millions at least. The fact that, cricket is in the second position in viewership is attributed to the fanatics from the sub-continent where the population is also really high. (A real bad move by football and other sports to leave out the Asian sub-continent to market their sport) Attributing to this reasoning, was India’s march to the 2003 World Cup Final, a part of the marketing gimmick to save the sport in India. Absurd as it sounds, because, if that was the case, India would have won the tournament. The average Indian has been treated by their stalwart cricketers as a sinusoidal wave with interests peaking, attaining a maximum and then starting to stoop.

The anti-climax of the changes that the game underwent was with the advent of T20s. May be they got their idea from the rain-truncated matches which used to be a 25-overs a side affair that pulled the crowds to the grounds despite the rains. T20s was a flabbergasting hit right from the word “Go”. Or, was it we the Indians who were on cloud nine when India won the inaugural World Cup in 2007, again for the first time? The World Cup triumph gave birth to IPL (Indian Paisa League. Oops!! Indian Premier League) which was an idea stolen from ICL (Indian Cricket League) of Zee Sports. What happened next is definitely not history, but controversies. Players who went to the ICL because they will never get a chance to play for their country and they also need to feed the cricket fanatics of their family were banned by BCCI. This happened when BCCI was not even aware of the potential that the T20 format possessed. IPL happened only after our World Cup triumph and they were not even ashamed to acknowledge the fact that the idea was indeed stolen. Similar to what ACB did to Kerry-Packer Series, although not the same. Then in chronology came the spot-fixing or the great Pakistani torrents of mishaps. Should I even talk about them? Better to leave it at the authorities’ hands to provide justice to the game.

Today we have different leagues and cricket is shaping into a massive crowd puller, just like football. Sirjis, please capture the market of China as well, before football takes them over completely. With China and USA in the foray, one day I dream cricket to be the most loved and viewed team sport in the world and I pray that my dream comes true which will be the actual climax.

On the road again - Day 1

2010-08-21T12:35:00.003+05:30

The April hot air was cold at 0430 hours in Jharsuguda when I and Abir kick-started my Thunderbird for the longest journey that we had planned till date. His quota to drive in the smooth SH10 was receding as fast as the morning replacing the dawn. By the time, the first rays hit the face of Oriya roads, we were in Sambalpur. Sambalpur is famous for Sambalpuri silk sarees, which are a one of its kind in the nation. Sambalpur being an important junction connects Bhubaneshwar on NH42, Mumbai via Raipur on one limb of NH6 and Kolkata via Keonjhar on the other limb while Jharsuguda on SH10. 10km further on from Sambalpur on NH6 towards Raipur one finds the vociferous Mahanadhi getting banked on the humungous Hirakud Dam. Known for its magnanimous structure, Hirakud dam is the world’s largest earthen dam with the walls running in for 30km connecting Burla and Hirakud town. Standing atop, it feels to be wavering along the ocean with no boundaries.

Refilling our wallets with a few grands, half of what we were expected to have by 20^th of the month also and the fuel tank with Speed Petrol, we had imagined to hit the 120kmph mark at ease on NH42. Abir not letting go of the rider’s seat, our usual count of swapping the seats was increased to 100km keeping the magnitude of the journey in mind. Updating my FB status to the current happenings, I knew that by the time my friends logged into FB, I would have reached my destination comfortably. The scenic beauty of the hills on the right hand side and farms on the left hand side left us dazed about the place through which we were travelling. At 100km from Jharsuguda we reached Charmal, a place specifically needs the mentioning. We took a break and ordered the nation’s best beverage to rejoice – Chai. We had mistakenly parked the 200kg monster in the muddy service lane and it took a while for us to bring it back on to NH42. Kick it with all might and it won’t start. After 10 minutes of desperate kicking, the bird refused to budge. We identified the problem with spark plug, but the engine was too hot to be meddled with. After half an hour of rest, with help from the Chai-dukaan, we got hold of Sankara, the mechanic. He opened the twin-spark that always made the trouble, cleaned it with the Speed Petrol and roared the engine. As a blessing in disguise for him, 50 bucks transferred hands without the required amount of work being done.

I started the engine and the April heat was getting on to us. Abir carrying a decent amount of luggage, I was the culprit with carrying a huge back-pack inspired by the song “Aaromale”. The entire blame was not on me as I was carrying Abir’s HDD as well. Finding it difficult to carry and maneuver, we stopped the bike and were making the make-shift arrangements to reduce our burden. Finally, finding a solution to it, we put the back-pack on the fuel tank and cruised away. When it was 0900 hours, we had cruised 250km to Angul to stop for our breakfast. The stoppage at Charmal had badly hit our average speed, calculated to just 60kmph. We removed our helmets, our elbow and shin guards, paused our music players and ordered Upma for breakfast, which being a favorite of Abir. We planned our next course to reach our destination with a better average speed so that we were able to make up for our loss. After applying the necessary sunscreens and putting back the armory on, we left Angul on the same NH42. Angul, known for Naxalites and National Aluminium Company is one of the fine industrial cities of Orissa. With more number of thermal powerplants coming up in the vicinity, the Naxal movement is taking a head-on clash with the blessed, fighting for the unprivileged. One observation worth mentioning is that the roads of Angul have improved a lot since our last trip. The clutters were removed and dancing jacks had been replaced by roads of NH standards.

When we were nearing Dhenkanal, there was a huge line of vehicles on the left hand side. Trucks, buses, cars, bullock-carts, were lined one after the other. We thought a railway gate that we could not remember of, was closed. But, that would not mean to stop vehicles for a 20km stretch. Reading into the situation, there was chaos as well. There were unsettling nerves about something tragic that had happened. Not again, we thought. We could hardly accelerate above 30kmph and reached a place where there was absolute chaos with tyres being burnt with animosity in the air as fuel. The police officer controlling the situation was looking directly at us and was calling us towards him. We did not know anything, we are simple bikers caught in a myriad haywire. Gathering courage, we biked towards the officer to find that he has made way for bikes in the zone to pass. Salute him, I thought. The whole mishap was about a bike ramming into a truck and there was heavy bloodshed. A furor was created as the person belonged to the nearby village and the road-services were disrupted. Thanks to the officer, we saved some 4 hours to circumvent the situation. On the other side of the accident, we saw the same line of trucks, buses, cars, bullock-carts and bikes stranded for 25km on the right side of the road. With the sun-streaming down on us, my tanned forearms called for a hydration break.

We reached Dhenkanal and moved swiftly through the hot whirlwind and reached Cuttack at 1300 hours and took the mighty NH5 of the Golden Quadrilateral. Speed mellowed down due to traffic, Abir felt difficulty in driving as we almost skidded past a truck that was going mayhem. Tempers and frustration rising between us mainly due to the heat, both of us displayed tremendous control in not yelling at each other. May be that is what the hot shopfloors of Vedanta has taught us - To remain cool when the situation and the ambience is hot. We reached Bhubaneswar at 1400 hours, scouted a hotel and refreshed. The conditioned air and the cold orange-flavored Glucon-D did some good to us. We later went to the Royal Motors to collect back our Insurance papers and visited our favorite restaurant – Tangerine and had a sumptuous meal. Searching for Lassi in the capital of Orissa, the salty ones tasted yuck although Abir had two of them. We later reached our hotel and dozed off. A true CSK fan in me woke up at the right time to watch the IPL Semi-Finals which CSK won against DC. The first day of the huge bike cruise was over. An arduous bike trip that was ahead of us the next day, taunted us, even in the dreams.

The In-dependence day

2010-08-16T09:14:00.003+05:30

The last time I celebrated my Independence Day was on the 9^th June, 2010 and my country’s Independence Day on the obvious date of 2003. As a school boy, marching with the pluck-card of “Vivekananda House”, I listened to a gravitating speech by person, whose name I do not remember, but, he was from an organization called Alma Mater. My vocabulary was at horrifying levels that I did not even understand the meaning of Alma Mater. But, the speech was in simple English that I understood. It was a speech that ignited the spirit of “I can” in me. I can, I can and I just did the opposite. Fared badly in the 12^th boards, screwed up the JEE and the other EEs as well.

The next Independence Day of 2004, I found myself attending a quiz (Ragging?? Rectification??) in a place some 2000km away from my home. The dogma of marching a parade and the head of the institute hoisting the National flag was unconventionally replaced by the quizzes that we underwent. The whole agenda of gleefully singing the National Anthem which was written just 60km from where I was being quizzed came as a slap on my face (pun intended).

The next Independence Day of 2005, I was awakened by a few juniors singing the National Anthem outside my door and who were quizzed after the show. After the formal introduction, a yawning me went outside my hostel to see hoards of juniors returning after the parade. A new convention was started that year to hoist the flag. I vowed a breakable vow to attend the ceremony next year without fail.

Independence Day of 2006 was no better. There were more juniors and being in the pre-final year gave me more autonomy to dictate things. Not because I was in pre-final year, but, because, I was residing in a final years’ wing. There were different versions of the 52-second starched-chest-high-head-proud-anthem with the length of it variably varying with the geography of India. Pushed the breakable vow to the Independence Day of 2007, which will be my final year at the place. So, I had to attend it. Then the day came and I was cozily sleeping in my bed, without any of my wing-mates’ disturbance. I think we had a party the last night, with an afore-seen fact that the next day is going to be a dry-day.

2008, Independence Day was on a weekly-off day. Working in shifts had my off shifted to Friday than the normal beings’ Sunday. The village where I was working in had a new or the first supermarket opened. Flocking with a couple of colleagues, I bought my daily accessories (brand of my choice actually) after put into a jail for two months. When my Independence Day will come from this place was the thought that extended to infinity.

Surprisingly, for the Independence Day of 2009, I had booked my tickets to the place where I was physically present on the Day from 2004 to 2007. I was merrily spending on shopping thinking that the big bucks will stop one-day and my breakable vow remained broken. I did not wake up the parade for the fourth time out of the given four chances. Independence meant Freedom and I had it with me then. The real freedom to say yes for the thing you want to.

It was 0400 hours when my mom woke me up on the 15^th August 2010. A couple of text messages wishing me “Happy Independence Day” with a text-drawing of the nation. I thought how superbly they have included the whole of Jammu & Kashmir and Arunachal Pradesh in it without knowing the real state of affairs. After my Sehri, I slept off and woke up around 0800 hours to find my cousin brother getting ready to leave for the flag hoisting at his college. It rang some bell in me. The guy with the freedom in me has changed over the years. While fasting in the holy month of Ramadhan, I realized, this is how millions of Indians feel 365 days a year, although their lives. The mental agony of hunger and thirst haunts them day and night. Irrespective of millions of tons of food grains rotting waste at the mega-warehouses of FCI, the responsible government still imports food grains and increase the deficit. They won’t even distribute the rotting grains for free to the unprivileged. With millions swindled in the name of Wealth that was supposed to be Common, with Indian Rupee getting a new face, with Communist East India fighting the Fascist West India, both of whom are against the secular North India with a completely intangible South India, lest we forget the North-East limb of Mother India.

Independence did not bring order but chaos. Only if we would have been a little more patient, the Englishmen themselves would have granted us the Independence without all the bloodshed. Nothing against the martyrs, who laid down their lives! As an Indian I salute them. On the contrary, is this is what they wished their country to be after 63 years of Free State?

India 2030

2010-07-27T08:44:00.003+05:30

India – 2030, sounds like the title of another economic-scientific-progressive novel. We stand here at 2010, look two decades ahead and think how our plan of action would have been executed. We are a nation of 1.2 billion people who never forget to plan, but, rely more on superstition than reality. When we think of the number of hurdles that is confronting us in becoming a superpower, we can just count to infinity twice. Although over the years, the hurdles have exponentially decreased we still have a long way to go before becoming the superpower that the world is expecting of us to be and also that we are capable of.

Redefining the dream of 2030, the cricketing nation, by then would have seen five different sets of governments that would have shared the crown. With coalition becoming success and democracy taking an altogether different meaning, the vision of 2030 entirely depends upon the execution of plan by the last government that will be in power. A lot of things would have changed by then, fresh plans would have made by then and fresh start for India -2050.

Giving statisticians a break, a lay-man can say that our population by then would have doubled, if not tripled. A cynical way of looking at it would be that the divisor that will bring down the per capita income is going to be humungous. But, on the contrary, we can start planning on the optimistic fact that we are going to be master producers of human resource to the world. The human species would have gone through a generational change and a more intelligent species will take over the reins. Old habits die hard; so does our inaccuracy in planning and execution. A lot of us will be a lot more relieved if the then younger generation would not emulate our genes which has a met the deep abyss in the execution of the 5-year plans. Our population explosion is going to be our strength, for which we have no measures to control, so why not turn an adversity into opportunity for growth. We can have the largest defense force; we can have two cricket teams representing India; Brazil will be seeking us to pardon them in the World Cup Finals; largest exporter of human resource, even to moon, we never know. We have learnt to live with billion other people; fight for our rights and survive. Isn’t that an accomplishment in its own sense?

The year 2030 is going to be the point of inflexion as far as the energy resources are concerned for the whole world. With as much inventions in the nuclear science, renewable sources of energy are still occupying the backseat. India relying highly on the crude oil exports apart from its own Oil and Natural gas projects has now started to look at Nuclear Technology as the viable alternative. Well the ecological damage has been done to a greater extent with swindling monsoons, topographical changes, climatic disorders and the least-hyped altercations with nature. We must get started with investments in the Research and Development sector to develop an alternative fuel for diesel and petrol. The rich society has to realize that pouring in lakhs of rupees on petrol and diesel engines is going to make them proud of the antiques of 2010. Why are we turning a blind eye on the blazing sun, the perennial rivers flowing with occasional floods, steady winds atop high mountains and the least of all the potential biodegradable waste?

Imagining a situation that we found a way to deal with our population explosion and energy problems, a country with diversified flora, fauna and people has been closely knit with its neighbors. What we see in our neighbors is not a helping hand, but, nuclear weapons that can destroy us, as well as them. A political consensus to the eternal problems of infiltration along the borders has created much havoc. Although a generous nation she has been, someone tell her neighbors that she already has more than a billion people to accommodate with no vacancies for those terrorists. 2030 should not see the terrorists as terror maniacs, but as mentally retarded people needing help where Euthanasia is performed upon. Our political policies should be framed in such a way that Kashmir belongs to us and so does Arunachal Pradesh.

Neglecting the volatile political situation out of the equation, what we have next is our faster than light-depleting natural resources. India, being blessed with billions of tones of minerals is fighting hard at the moment to sustain them. Illegal mining on one side while, illegal money on the other. Without developing the mining affected areas, the mining conglomerates are wishing to dance in the rain of profits. The current insurgency created is an aftermath of decades of negligence. Before stepping into the realm of the vision of 2030, these problems must be sorted out. The question that needs to be raised here is not the Capitalist nature of the government or the multinational mining companies, but the poor laws that guide them. Ask any Indian you find on the road and he would not even remember when the laws that govern him were made. An educated Indian will answer the same question with much pride that they were made in pre-historic 1950s. Hasn’t India seen much change since then? Hasn’t the human race marched forward in evolution? Are we doing enough to upgrade the laws? By 2030, I wish the aam-aadmi of today is turned into a seb-aadmi. By 2030, all we need to have is a water-tight law system to take us on a forward march. Enough of waiting and walking, by 2030, we can be half-way through to our destination of a super-power only if we start with jogging now.

Reminiscence of Marina

2010-07-15T09:12:00.004+05:30

The other day I was sitting at the Marina beach, reminiscing old times leading to the thought that could improve us, the people and us, the nation. I have been a frequent visitor to this 13 km stretch on the shores of the Chennai city, which is adorned with many historical statues. When I used to visit the beach with my family during my childhood, it used to be a 45 min ride on a bus. The Chepauk cricket stadium road perpendicularly leads to the beach road. From there, sitting inside the bus I could see the blue waves scripting their poems on the sands. Every time I see it, a euphoria moment would rise in me as if it was my first time. A good feel that just got wonderful.

The walk on the sandy beach used to be a long one to reach the waters. To reach the waves splashing on us, thereby our legs getting buried under the sand. Let alone the English language, no other language can express that inexplicable feel, except for the fact that it only can be experienced. The beach used to be dirty then, with no rules and regulations. None cared for the ecosystem and thought that this is going to here forever. While returning back with frown faces of not leaving the waters, I used to have the beach-famous bhajjis made from a variety of dal powder and raw bananas, fried in oil. It used to be an enjoyable experience without a question in mind that life is fun to live. I used to wish why my home was 10 km away from the beach, but consoling myself later that to experience the euphoria, the given set of conditions were a blessing.

After 6 years being away from the city and the beach, I find the same euphoria hitting me when I drive on my bike and reach the aperture of the blue view. How something that I have experienced close to a thousand times, can raise the same feel every time, which is inexplicable indeed. Now, the walk is not a long one to reach the waters. Global warming had its share of foul play. The beach is a lot cleaner and more improvement programs are carried out to maintain it properly. People’s perspective of ecosystem has changed and they do not want to litter. The bhajjis are more costly, but a lot tastier. 10 km seems nothing when I heard huge exclamations from my friends in North India of how privileged I am. The only constant that has not been disturbed by the natural calamities or the cost of living or the spurge in economy or the topography is that inexplicable feel of your feet getting immersed in the sand when the waves splash which is for eternity, let alone the mortal beings.

Life is beautiful..

2010-07-12T19:02:00.006+05:30

Life is beautiful. It is just that we human beings running behind the beautiful things that we see, hear, smell and feel around, forget the very true fact that life is beautiful. Every person in this world works, earns, eats, sleeps and plays to live life. But, what is the point in not appreciating a life that you live for. The life for which you put in so much hard work, yet, you do not value it?

Every emotions felt by every human being on this planet is special and unique. It is only s/he who felt such an emotion at such a time has felt it and although s/he can share it with others, s/he cannot replicate it again. That makes it very special and very unique because when you think of replicating it almost with the identical conditions you simply cannot because, you are older than what you were. So replicating a feeling or an emotion is the only thing in the universe that is impossible, if only time travel was possible.

But, working on this theory and considering a condition that time is stationary, we can do the impossible. But, when the time becomes stationary and nothing changes with fourth dimension, which is when the world comes to a halt around us. Neither we are able to feel nor move on, in that meta-physical state. We start repenting and nothing changes around us. We play the waiting game for far too long and lose it all. Instead, living life beautifully and enjoying every emotion one at a time is what the true purpose of every human because every life is special and it deserves to be beautiful.

Go Green - Why a bicycle is better than a motorcycle..

2010-06-30T10:38:00.007+05:30

1. I can travel my full journey on the wrong-side.

2. I can put the U-turn wherever I want. Just lift the cycle and jump over the divider.

3. I don’t need to worry about the traffic lights.

4. I don’t give a damn about where the nearest petrol pump is.

5. The left side of the road including the pavement belongs to me. (For the right side, refer points 1 and 2).

6. I don’t have any speed limits.

7. I get a healthy work out.

8. In case of brake failure, I can use the accelerator-my feet as the brakes.

9. I can put scratches on any other vehicle at freewill and still not worried about scratches on mine.

10. I don’t need a license or a RC book or an insurance and save India from corruption by not bribing the Traffic police.

Hey ya..

2010-06-30T10:26:00.006+05:30

Dear Scooty Pep,

This is me, Thunderbird. How are you? I am fine. As you would know, I was born in a Royal family and initially used to chase the Ladybirds during my school days. Immaturely, I thought, the bird-bird connection would make it all work. But, as time passed, I was proved perennially wrong. Also, my luck ran out against the Sunnys and the first generation Scootys.

Since, I was born as a new generation cruiser; I was way too unconventional and was nothing like the classic Bullets. Not to mention the unilateral confrontations that I had with the ordinary Indian bikes. I was not just the normal bike around. Extraordinary sounds way too strong, but, abnormal sounds very apt.

Initially, I was born with a single spark plug, to redefine the meaning of a royal cruiser. Just like any other bike, I followed the single spark plug fundamental. But, with unconventionality prevailing in me, I was forced to change. My inventors clubbed with the markets, wanted me to perform better. Wanted me to give better mileage, better comfort thereby modifying the silencer initially. Later, the thought of introducing twin spark plugs made them happier. I burnt more fuel and gave better efficiency. But, never was I asked, if I would feel comfortable about the twinspark. It is the way I was born and from far, the society adores me. But, when asked to own one, they neither have the guts nor the power to handle. That is the reason, you see very less of me on the roads. But, with the ever increasing broad-minded people, you will see the more of me.

Be it any bike, a 150 or a 220 or a 350cc, its existence on earth is justified only when it follows a sub-100cc moped and actually wins her over. As hot cakes in the bakery, came those Saffires, Activas, Dios, Pleasures, etc., but, I was interested in none. To follow the girlie cars was never in my list. Hearing a lot about you, I never in my wildest dreams would have dreamt that I will follow you. I was fanatically in love with you. I went wherever you went. But, the family of bikes not accepting me because I am a twinspark is totally unacceptable. One day, they will understand me. That I was completely unaware of the mistake that they think I am. But, in the end, I am proud to be one. With millions of kilometers to travel in this journey of life, we will meet again. Till then, happy and safe driving!!

Yours lovingly

Thunderbird Twinspark

Cricket clock ticks back again!!!

2010-06-20T21:24:00.005+05:30

There have been innumerous times, when the game of cricket in India has gone through phenomenal changes. Every now and then, the absurd situations of loss in interest leading to decline in viewership have baffled the cricket industry. And each time a disaster occurs, it occurs in its true sense. Etched in the memory of the present T20 generation, the century’s birth was marked by the match-fixing fiasco, followed by dismal performance in 2003 World Cup finals, 2007 World Cup first round exit and the recent T20 World Cup. Every time, the road along the abyss seemed deeper, but the anti-gravity force has proved stronger enough.

After the match-fixing scandal, we saw the formation of a new team of youngsters taking the reins at the helm. A new dawn was on the horizon with fresh legs and smarter brains. The most successful Indian captain took the team to new heights and the front-end work thoroughly projected the back-end efforts. It was those individuals who brought the hopes of billion other Indians alive. Alas! When the going was good, the same individuals buckled under pressure, hay-wired on the March 23^rd finals and shattered the expectations.

The rebuilding this time was not that fast enough. Taking examples from the past, the team started playing consistently and were rightly rewarded, supported by stellar performances from the next pool of youngsters. Infusion of young minds once again proved that the juice of cricket is worth the squeeze for the Indians. But, they proved that watching cricket over studying for exams is not that great an idea for millions of students across the nation, during the jet-lagged 2007 World Cup.

After the falter, the recovery did not take much of a time, as the Indian board used the same old trick of betting on the youngsters and were rewarded with the first T20 World Cup. Cricket reached new heights and the pinnacle was right in sight. Cashing in on the cricketing craze that was generated and the adrenaline being pumped in, the birth of the Cricket League and the Premier League fanaticized the fans. With myriad controversies surrounding both the leagues, the common fan was very optimistic about the future of the game. His interest rocketed and the mere numbers of economical crashes never even bothered him.

Plummeting at the second T20 edition, did not bring that many hearts down until the IPL-III happened. Again giving way to controversies and conspiracies, the tournament thought-out as a preparation for the T20 World Cup, 2010, proved to be a devil in disguise. With fitness issues at the centre and personal issues in the periphery, the Men in Blue, portrayed themselves to be completely disordered. Finding solace and trying the same approach of investing in the new pool of youngsters in the Zimbabwe tour backfired and the next strategy to rejuvenate seems to be a looming asymptote. Was the thrilling India-Pakistan match of the Asia Cup the panacea? We got to wait and watch.

Spark Plug

2010-06-18T08:42:00.006+05:30

"Station Ochunundi. Jaragandi babu.", shook my Telegu co-passenger. Yeah, I thought. Stepping out of the artificially cooled coach, I found the sky clear. At early dawn, birds starting to chirp, the platform no.2 seemed long. With a jolt from the blue, I remembered that my bike is on the parcel van. Ran to one extreme of the platform to make sure, it did not reach Allepey by any chance as it belonged to my place. As any Indian goes through the same trauma of paying bribe as if he is paying a non-receipted tax, I paid 200 bucks to make OR23-C-7860 stand on the platform. And I was informed by the tax collector that I can collect the bike from the other end of the platform. Lurching ahead, I went to the end of the train with my heavy backpack and the laptop.

With no petrol in the tank, I did not have a clue how to carry forward at 0400 hours. Carrying inflammable articles like petrol, kerosene is a punishable offense. They do not mind, if the tracks are wired, but, they are very particular about the petrol inside the bike. I know Safety precautions, but, what about the engine oil then. I feel this is where our intelligence fails. With seven kilometers to reach, I do not have the hydrogen-fuel-technology to power my way through. Then, the spark plug in me ignited. I called up my nocturnal friend and asked him to bring petrol along from any of the 24hour station. A big positive about big cities, things here are 24*7, mechanic shops not being taken into account.

After half an hour, he reached and without a second thought, I emptied two litres of petrol. If one has got to say about crime, carrying petrol in bottles from a Petrol bunk is a crime. Once again, an intelligence failure. Now, it was time for a thumping start. Kick-Dub-Dub-Dub-fail. Again kicked. Again and again. With all the cosmos filling in at 0430 hours, I doubted air lock. I blew air, fanatically into the tank to release the air lock. But, nothing worked out. Given another chance to my spark plug, and some telephonic conversation with my mechanic, I tried with the carburetor settings and as expected, nothing worked out.

Where is the mechanic shop at 0500 hours? So, called up the Just Dial service and asked them if they could help me in finding mechanic shops around the Central station for a bullet. Instant came the SMSes containing the name and contact nos. of the mechanics around. Tried calling those nos. and in vain, I found deep sleep on the other side. The only guy who received the call, was reluctant to come since, I was not his permanent customer. "Dude, this is the first time I'm in the city with my bike and you expect me to be your permanent customer?"

With all Permutations and Combinations drying out, the only other logical reason was that the fuel was not getting ignited. Then, I called up another friend who updated his FB status saying that he is jobless at 0500 hours. Thinking, "Buddy, I got a job for you now", he reached within 15 minutes to flaunt his control over speed on early-morning free roads. Chit-chatting for an hour, and well-knowing that the mechanic shops around the place opens by 0900 hrs, we had the company of soda, sprite and cigs. With the bike, under my friends custody, I went back home in one of their bikes, freshened up and then reached back at 0800 hours.

Reaching back, instantaneously, I started removing the spark plugs and cleaned them. With lots of Carbon deposits, it was all transferred to my hands. Then, my bike started, then stopped. The cycle went on for quite a while. To our great amazement, a mechanic shop close-by opened by 0830 hours. Towing to that shop, and with clear explanations, he cleaned up the spark plugs with petrol and then the clear dub-dub-dub started. It was a moment of co-incidence that Airtel sends me a SMS, "Welcome to Chennai. For assistance please call our Customer Care at 121."

Monica - Oh!! My Darling

2010-06-17T13:13:00.006+05:30

I committed a grave mistake on 16th of June. I am not talking about joining Vedanta on the same date in 2008. There is this girl in my life who is very special to me. She is not my girlfriend, not my sister, not my mother or any other blood relative. She is my best friend. Bumped into her by accident and this shy girl from Bombay was reluctant to actually make a conversation. Being a strong anti-racist myself, I got to know that we speak the same mother tongue, after looking at her full name. As usual, this cuddly-puddly lady slowly bonded with me as a fish would with water. Months passed, through the ups and downs, there she was with me always. An excellent cook, she is the main reason for me fighting my medical disorders. I owe my bike to her and how often do you see a girl who is ready to travel thousands of miles on a bike. Love the way, she says "means" or her complete indecisiveness. But, she is never that immature as she portrays herself to be. A strong reason being, this cute girl knows to love people. Seldom, we find true love and she is the one who possesses it. Her love for friends transcends boundaries and many a times she proves a wise-man wrong. She is a diamond in the crown of a king and I am eternally indebted to her. Monica, my darling, I love you my dearest friend and I am really sorry for not wishing you on your birthday.

Tippu

"Life" supplement of Sunday Times of Durgapur..

2010-04-25T11:19:00.008+05:30

How many times have you felt your heart racing against time and skipping a beat, blood rush to your brains, Goosebumps all over your hands? Separate instances, remotely you can relate to, but, a sensational never-before-happened feeling when everything happens in concurrence. As I was driving my bike through the M.G.Road, I did not feel anything different. Prima facie, everything was the same, but, as the distance to the main gate reduced with the throbbing run down, the yesteryears flashed through. There, I used to walk the same road with a bunch of sweet idiots, pulling each others' legs, talking crap about the system (as though we are going to change it), looking up to how cool things are going to be when we start professionally working. Crazy ideas right from the thumping heart and nothing to do with the brains.

We saw what "change" was. How the change was from a single cell-phone (9832132172) in the whole wing to the ever-clicking refresh-button of Orkut pages. How information was and is passed on? How communication is being done? A single STD call used to cost us Rs.3 per min, but, now cross-country calls are free with Skype. I now hear from my then life-supporters (read it Sunny, LH mode Som, Techno Shambu-dha, Xerrrrrooooxxxx guy, et al.) how the crowd has changed and have become more tech-savvy or tech-addict. How much the people here are following the mundane sleep-classes-facebook routine. Life has become a routine for them, which we never had. A matter of concern being, very few people have fun the way we used to have. A "Like" notification is considered a more secure and appropriate way to start a conversation than hanging out in jhoops. With the increasing number of girls, there is more division in the groups. Without a question, the number of couples in the PMC (Piya Milan Chowk), Library, Rickshaws, Library-High voltage lab road has increased, but, is that what the four years vacations is all meant for?

Profs becoming stricter and not allowing students to cheat, 70% attendance becoming compulsory, physical and mental rectifications banned, very few strong groups, where are we heading to? All this may not have an immediate reflection on the way of life now, but, certainly its implications are far worse than to be imagined. But, I am happy for the fact that the crowd is more professionally oriented, more towards the engineering part of it. But, one thing I would like mention here is that, what we guys learnt was more than engineering, it was the way to think like an engineer. The attitude of life - Karo joh Dil Chahta hai, so that the euphoria does not die out. I am more than happy that I was at this place a few years ago, with the best people around and as a true spirit of a human being, I accept that I had the time of my life. Hail NIT-Durgapur...

A Road to Raipur..

2010-04-19T19:03:00.009+05:30

"Sir, I need a weekly off tomorrow."

"Last month only you took a day off and went to Bhubaneswar."

"Sir, I went to bring my bike and after that I have had just one weekly off in four weeks."

"Hmmm. Let me think about it. But, why do you need one tomorrow? By the way, tomorrow is Thursday; aaaand that means you will be coming on Friday?"

"Sir, Friday is my weekly off."

"What? Two days leave. What will happen here? You are so irresponsible, taking so many leaves. By the way, why do you need leave tomorrow?" (As if it is his baap ka company which won't run if I don't come)

"Sir..... Have to go to Raipur... Have some work there.... My aunt's relative is coming there to sell her property and she will be flying to Saudi soon and I won't get to meet her beautiful daughter for some years now." (Bingo, Tell a girl's name and there you see his face shine. Frustrated souls of core companies.)

"Oh... Going to meet your girl is it? Achcha, Ok.. But, make sure u come to office by Saturday"

Finally got out of the ill-fated cabin and headed to complete the day's work. Wednesday being the middle of the week, there was not much of work at 1730hrs. Punched out at 1800hrs and reached my home. Packed the necessities and had a sound sleep.

Woke up at 0500hrs on a beautiful November Thursday, freshened up and went straight to Abir's house and picked him up. With lots of nudging and pushing, he finally accepted that we will go in my bird, but was reluctant to take a second helmet. Again, a lecture to convince him and finally we were on the highway to Sambalpur by 0700hrs.

"Any idea, which road to take from Sambalpur?"

"Tippu, we will see to that. First lets have our breakfast."

We had our usual Puris at a dhaba and I was feeling sleepy. I asked him to drive the next 100km and then we will swap. There we went asking people, "Bhaiyya, Which road for Raipur" and finally reached NH6. Crossed the mighty Mahanadhi and true to its name, it is Maha-nadhi. So, huge and voluminous that one tends to wonder about the amount of engineering that would have gone in building that bridge. A moment to capture, we shot our Facebook stills with the bike and the enormous bridge. Later, we set out on NH6 traversing Burla, where the nearest multi-specialty hospital is located in the vicinity and at 100km from Jharsuguda, we reached Bargarh. Happy to see a cinema hall there, we made plans to watch all the soon to be released new movies there. Quite a big town and then after 50km we swapped positions. An untold secret about Thunderbirds is that on long rides, the best place to be is the rider. The pillion feels so uncomfortable that the pee and the chai breaks becomes a frequent visitor reducing the average speed.

After another 50km, we came across the board "Thank you for visiting Orissa. Please visit again." "Its my pleasure, atleast I will be away from the sick-state Orissa for more than twelve hours now". After entering Chhattisgarh, the road started to break in the middle. It was difficult to maintain a speed of 60kmph on a trot, but later the road's condition took the sinusoidal curve. Near important towns, the road did get better and for the first time I was riding in a Hindi-spoken state. All around I saw the shops' name in Hindi and took some time to set in to the gathering. Chai in Chhattisgarh sucks and after a few more FB shoots, we reached Raipur at 1430hrs.

Seven and half hours of blissful riding and we straight went into the mall and booked the matinee show for "Ajab Prem ki Gazab Kahani". We had a couple of Pizza and my heart missed a beat when Abir told me that it is difficult to get non-vegetarian food in Raipur. The movie was a real stress-buster and sometime Pagalpanti also has its own cue.

Came down, had a coffee at the nearby CCD and the girls particularly were not that hot or gorgeous. A few mini-skirts to ogle at and the rest were the plain traditional dress. Nothing was out of the way beautiful about them, but, they were trying hard to portray the-we-are-traditional-girls-in-a-modern-city. We then booked the tickets for the night show and the choice was the worst, Kurban. I did not know it then, but repented very much after the movie.

Later searched for a nice hotel to stay and to put our luggage and for the first time I stopped my bike at a traffic signal. It did feel good only for a couple of seconds, then the cop sidelined us and was asking for our identifications. Happy to see that we were coming from a big industry, he was aghast, just like anyone else, as why we came by a bike. We crossed the Central prison shooting night-time videos, freshened up in the hotel and set out for dinner and the movie. I wanted to eat non-vegetarian food badly, but we were lost in quite a big city of Raipur. Too many cross roads took us to the beautiful and residential parts of the city and as a blessing in disguise, my eyes fell upon "Madrasi Grill". How lucky can I be? Double bingo. Authentic Tamil Nadu Muslim Biriyani at Raipur, where you do not come across a non-vegetarian hotel. Relished my dish and reached the theatre in time for the show and what a crap movie it was. It was yet again an american-muslim-terrorist movie. Finally, we called the long day off and settled under the razai as the winter was finally being felt.

Next day, we started our return journey and shot a few more videos of Raipur and were off on NH6. At around 150km from Raipur, due to a sudden overtake and a loss of control, we hit off-road into the bumps and finally the ill-fated accident occurred with Abir. For the n^th time, the helmet saved both of us. Lucky were we that, we escaped with very minor injuries. Then was my turn to ride as he was badly injured and after 10 minutes of resumed riding, he again asked to take the bike to the side. We stopped and he took a nap.

Finally, on the road again, I was feeling sleepy while riding and there came Abir's resilience to take the reins again. With dehydration taking its toll, we reached Bargarh and ran into the restrooms of Hotel Ganpati. Finally, relieved of the pressure, we relished the American (Oriya) Chopsey and headed back to Jharsuguda with winters getting really colder with the then recent rains. That was when I realized the power of Leather accessories, a must in your kit.

Saturday came.

"Aur, Tippu.. How was your trip? How is your girl?"

"Had a nice trip sir. Looking forward to some more if you would grant me leaves."

"Nahi yaar. You had a reason, so I let you go. But, since she is away for now, concentrate on work for now."

"Ok Sir." (I can see my break-up coming. Atleast for the sake of the next road trip ;) )

Safe Riding.

Red and Black..

2010-03-24T18:25:00.007+05:30

The Wednesday morning was cool with my face getting a splash of cold winter breeze while pillion-riding LML Freedom with Abir. The October 14 morning was just another usual cold morning with the exception of enticing things that lay ahead. Bullock riding our way through the village to the office, we punched-in late by 15 minutes as usual. Then the usual chai with hot crunchy samosas kicked off the work with the same contempt. Although my workplace restricts me to wear only digital watches, I could sense the movement of the seconds' hand of the watch equivalent to its hours. Somehow completed the crappy work and there we were off, as soon as the clock stuck 14:00. I went to my room, changed and was ready with my backpack. With Pratap's punctuality we started our Road trip in his car to the capital of Orissa at 16:00hrs. Abir and I occupied the rear seat with Pratap being the only one to know to how to drive a car on a highway, among the three of us. The keen apprehension of driving back on the same NH42 was enormous, but, with Abir, anything is possible. He ensured that things would be fine, every time when we passed through the Naxalite patches.

We reached Bhubaneshwar at 01:00, 15th October and rested at Pratap's place. One exotic thing about car road trips is the coupling effect of soothing music in amazing speakers with the brilliant landscapes. On our right we had dark, tall mountains and unscathed villages on the left. The best song that we enjoyed was "Jao na" from "What's you Rashee?" apart from the eternal "Dil Chahtha Hai". You got to try, and I am sure, you will enjoy it.

On a lighter note what I observed about the faucets of Bhubaneshwar is that they sprinkle water compared to the gushing faucets elsewhere. At Pratap's place, hotels, anywhere one went the same similarity. We had a light breakfast with the excitement increasing exponentially, reached the only showroom in the city. The Royal Motors, Bhubaneshwar was neither as royal as the name sounded nor as big as compared to the machines in store. Mine - the black one and Abir's - the red one was kept outside and we were introduced the machos. With a pre-existing Thunderbird in the showroom, we took a test ride. That was the first time, I rode a Bullet and the experience was devastating for me. Devastating in the sense, I started doubting my integrity. With some emotional help from Abir, Pratap and my best friend Sangeet, I was doing a little better. The small ride was so sensational that I was haunted with the doubts whether I would suit the bike or not, leave alone my trip back.

Then came the cash transfer issue. The couple of birds cost Rs.2.05lac. As we already had paid an initial booking amount, we were complied to pay more Rs.1.85lac. With no cash in hand and everything in card, we faced the challenge of the day of transferring the money. With Internet banking failing us once again, we were left with the only option of withdrawing cash from the ATMs. Hail Mr. P. Chidambaran and the maximum amount that we could withdraw was a paltry Rs.25k per account. We were short of Rs.1.35lac now. God save and there we went to the ICICI Bank of the city. With some breakthrough technology in the banking sector, our birds were saved with the system of RTGS (Real Time Gross Settlement). From this account to that account and from there to another account and finally to Royal Motors account we transferred the Rs.1.35lac. Paid the rest with cash and with the kind assistance from Pratap, we got the keys of our exclusive birds in our hands. The moment in a life, which everyone must enjoy, is pure bliss. With still some tuning left with the machines, we went for helmet shopping and Pratap was the first man to ride my Bird as I was still damn scared to sit on it. With a confidence-boosting session from Abir, I took a ride to the XIMB Cafe Coffee Day and chilled out with my favorite Choc-a-Vloc. Later, we hunted down for a Spicy Biriyani shop and riding in the city night was a special fun with a new bike. We were the immediate centre of attraction when we criss-crossed the wide roads. Diwali, a day away, we bought some crackers and made to Pratap's place by midnight.

The date was 16th October. Bhubaneswar, being a coastal city had its share of winter. 05:00hours was pretty plain and that was when we kick-started our respective birds to a 355km drive. We were advised not to cross 60 kmph speed limit for the longevity of the engine. We crossed the mighty Mahanadhi and then took the NH42. One helluva experience was crossing a mighty river with a thumping background at 06:00hrs. With the speed tab constantly ringing in our minds, Abir was fixing timely targets as we traveled through Dhenkenal, where we had our first chai stop after 80km from Cuttack. Then, at 150km from Cuttack, we reached Angul, the hub of NALCO and the Naxal-brewing place. We stretched ourselves in a hotel where we had our breakfast and still we had 250km to cover. The time was already 10:00 as I was scared to drive for this long. The first 200+km road trip for me and it really did kick the gut out of me. Abir then cajoled me with his first long trip from Kota to Jaipur on a bike and that was as cool as a cucumber and infused the hunger to drive more. With sleep setting, Abir twice almost fell into the adjoining bushes. That was when we laughed and had a nice photo-shoot. Music does play a very important role, because without music, I am certain to have lost my concentration from the road.

The road was superb except for the Angul stretch of 30km and the scenery on both sides were scintillating. There were these small chai shops along the highway proving to be a blessing in disguise. With kilometers behind us, we were the talk of the road, as the fellow-riders were asking about the specifications, price and lots other things concerned with the bird. How often, one sees two brand new Thunderbirds, blazing on a highway?

At around 15:00, we reached within the vicinity of Sambalpur. Jharsuguda is just 50km and we were certain that we will reach Jharsuguda by 17:00 hours calculating with our lunch break. Had a sumptuous biriyani again and left for the final stretch. This stretch is our usual weekend road; so, we know the curves and turn as clear as a NFS gamer knowing the tracks. Finally, we reached Jharsuguda and all Abir had to tell me was that this is his first long trip too....

Aaromale

2010-03-02T20:01:00.011+05:30

There is a certain calmness one can observe, when looking at the sea. On the shore, they seem noisy with their waves scripting their poetries on the surface of sandy outlines. But, with their perseverance they can convert a rocky outline to a sandy one, just that one needs patience to do so. A little above, looking deep into the twilight, one does see the happenings of the past. Past here, certainly does not mean getting into the pensive mood, but, it means the actual past that we all tend to forget.

Take the sun for an example. On any normal day, be it abnormal too; when we look at the sun, what we see is an eight minute old sun. As science says, it takes eight minutes for the light from the sun to reach earth. So, technically, we are looking at the sun, that was there eight minutes ago. So, this must be true with all the beautiful stars that we see. Even the gorgeous moon is a couple of seconds old. This, when analogized with human's basic life, it is always we, who are looking into what was there, rather than what is there. We tend to forget what is obvious and see what we convince ourselves to be seeing.

Every time, we want to achieve something, we try. When we succeed we are happy and contended. But, when we fail, we look into the past. Do, a RCFA (Root Cause Failure Analysis) and accept the defeat. Seldom have we tried again, because we are happy with the reasons, rather than working on them.

Why do not we ever do something called as RCSA (Root Cause Success Analysis)? Majorly because, when we are successful, we boast our interest and our will in the achievement. But, seldom have we understood that we are looking into the past. Looking back at the time, "when we had looked ourselves into the future, 'how happy we would be when we would achieve this feat. This is all what we wanted and we achieved it.'" It all began then. The moment once thought to be, happened. Aren't we looking into the past-reality?

Our success solely depends upon how strong we feel about achieving this feat. This is the thin line I am talking about - between success and failure. Lots of times you would have heard that if you really need a thing to happen, so desperately, the whole universe will conspire for you. This is the recursive proof for that statement, which became popular from "The Alchemist".

When you fail at anything, try once again looking into the future, "how happy you would be", then try for it once again. But, never give up, because we are born to win. That is because, knowingly or unknowingly, we all look into the past. That is the way, this universe works. When the mighty universe works that way, so would you - a miniscule part of it.

Looking into the twilight, this was what I realised "Aaromale" (O Beloved), because the waves never stop, at least for another five billion years.....

Bikes - The best way to read a guy..

2010-02-27T17:17:00.008+05:30

Ever wondered how easier it would be to categorize people on the way they go about with their things. It is like presenting a simple catalogue and asked to choose the best from. But, we only wish so. One of the most prominent common linkages amongst the guys in the age group 18-25 is their passion for biking. Even if they do not have one (passion), they would definitely use a bike to commute. Even if they do not have one (bike), they will use their friends'. Such are the guys divided initially. So, what are these catalogue businesses all about?

<=110cc

Hero Honda: Splendor, Passion, CD-Dawn, CD-Deluxe.

TVS: Star.

Bajaj: Platina, Discover100.

I am not describing each of the guy's bikes in this category because they are the "Sambar" guys. They very well come under the non-passionate-biking category and are termed "The safe" guys. No wonder Hero Honda operates majority of the bikes in this category. They drive so that they won't waste their time commuting and can invest their "saved time" studying or going to temple. So that, they won't waste petrol; so that, they will be safe on road and so that, they can say "We are Desh ki Dhadkan". We got to give them the tag because, they do save petrol.

>110cc && <150cc:

Hero Honda: Glamour

Honda: Shine, Stunner

Bajaj: XCD, Discover, Platina125, Pulsar135

Glamour, a good bike, but, never a girl would fall for a guy riding in this bike.

Shine, an affordable version of Unicorn and nothing special about it.

Stunner, the poor-man's Karizma and is definitely not as amazing as it looks.

And, as expected, Bajaj steals the category, as guys preferring bikes from this category are as not as passionate as the above one or the below one. When around with their girl, they prefer "The Safe" guy tag, but, when their girl is not around, they portrait themselves as "the dude" which they are not. And this category earns the name "In-between" because it is "Hamaraaaa Bajaj".

>=150cc && <180cc

Hero Honda: CBZ xtreme, Hunk

Bajaj: Pular150

Honda: Unicorn

TVS: Apache160

Yamaha: FZ-S, FZ-16, R-15, Fazer

They say they are the hot guys. With little more efforts, they can transcend to the real hot dudes. But, they are the self-contained guys who are happy with the "dude" tag.

CBZ - one amazing invention in the Indian market and a leap forward. I know many will agree when I say that it opened the market of >100cc.

Hunk is as promising as it looks and a cool bike to have in your kitty.

When the Definitely Male, picks up, he is the pick-up service for many girls. The seats are so designed for it.

How often do people realize that there went a Unicorn. Girls prefer guys with Unicorn just for the fact that they are the "safer dudes".

They say Apache160 is faster than Pulsar180, but, I never felt so and girls hate guys with this bike, just purely for its racing abilities.

And this category is single-handedly stolen by Yamaha for its super-miniature versions. Pleasure to race in R-15, FZs and add the double-eyed Fazer to it. "Yes! Yamaha". The benchmark of true racing.

>=180cc && <=250cc

Bajaj: Pulsar180, Avenger200, Pulsar220

TVS: Apache RTR180

Hero Honda: Karizma

Kawasakhi: Ninja

Pulsar180, truly the Definitely Male than its 150cc. Racing is so easy in this bike that you actually forget the speed at which you are travelling.

Pulsar220 looks odd, but, is giving a good fight to Karizma. Girls with racing IQ will prefer their men to have atleast either of them.

The first cruise bike till now - Avenger. Riding Avenger is like faking orgasm. One does not get the cruise feel if you are tall. And short guys, have a better chance of hitting on a girl with this.

RTR180 stands firmly with its tag "Racing DNA Unleashed". Certainly, it has.

Karizma is good with Hrithik on it, but, guys if you love racing, Ninja is on its way on Indian roads.

With one of these bikes you are sure to find a hottie sitting behind.

>250cc:

Royal Enfield: Classic350, Classic500, ThunderBird Twinspark, Electra, Machismo350, Machismo500

The final category on Indian roads. Here, it is not whether the bike suits you or not, it is about whether you suit the bike. Royal Enfield, truly dons this category. Macho guys, who are speed+long distance travel. I think you get what I mean. Travel is made so easy that you only get the best out of it. Girls should prefer guys with cruises because, they are secure, they are costly and they are definitely the head-turner. No matter at what speed you go, you will receive attention. You will become popular because of your bike and of course because of your girl.

When I conclude this, I have ridden almost all the bikes mentioned above, but, there is a special place in my heart for one of the best inventions in Indian Racing- Yamaha RX100. It is completely out of production, but, none can stop noticing you when you ride it on the road. Yet, my dream of riding a RX100 eludes me still and the perfect woman too....

The real-life avatar..

2010-02-11T20:30:00.012+05:30

James Cameroon's Avatar - A massive hit of the year and has mind-boggling collections all over the world. Is it only on the screen or does it happen in real-life?

I will take you through to a strikingly similar, with just the names-changed version of real-life happenings that I saw and see with my own eyes every day.

Place:

Pandora, a moon of the planet Polyphemus, some 4.3 light years away from the earth.

Orissa, a state in the country India, some 3.5*10^-10 light years away from Pyramid of Giza. (Pyramid of Giza chosen for obvious reasons).

Mineral:

Unobtanium, which can save the earth from present energy crisis.

Bauxite, which can flood the earth with more automobiles and aircrafts that cause these energy crisis.

Organisation:

Resources Development Administration, carrying out the Pandora mission.

Vedanta Resources Plc., carrying out the Vedanta Aluminium Project.

Affected:

Na'vis of the Pandora, especially the Omaticayas in particular, whose sacred "Hometree of pure sprits of Eywa" are encroached upon. HomeTree rests upon Pandora's biggest deposit of Unobtanium.

Common people of Orissa on the whole, with Dongaria Kondhs in particular, with their sacred mountain Niyamgiri hills in jeopardy. Niyamgiri has the biggest desposit of Bauxite.

Currently, Vedanta's Alumina-Operations have come to a standstill because of the agitations caused in the Niyamgiri mining area. But, since they already have an 0.28 mtpa aluminium smelter in full operation in Jharsuguda, Orissa, they are importing alumina from Australia. Someone, who is unsure about the way the mining rights case is going to go, won't produce aluminium at $1793 per ton when the market selling price is only $1953 per ton. The ulterior motives and hidden truth of bribes is clearly seen.

The undertaken CSR activities aren't that wonderful enough, to keep the agitators pacified. Now, caught in the wrong foot, the only safety net is the Indian government, which is going to turn the verdict in Vedanta's favor. That is because, if a person who sold Aluminium scraps from an Aluminium PSU - BALCO can woo the government to buy-out the same, with the then political family's support, he can repeat it once again, as the family hasn't changed in any dimension.

The factual analogies are clearly stated. And now comes the time, where we face the harsh reality that, it is not a happy ending in the real-life when compared to the reel-life. The Supreme Court is on the brink of issuing "No Objection" certificate to Vedanta Resources to resume mining in the Niyamgiri hills.

With money anything is possible, especially in India, as people's sentiments are secondary. Those of you, who think, "let the tribal people relocate" and support the argument that "let the tribal people step back to prosper the Industrial Revolution", I just want you to think about a situation and answer honestly. If there is a new metro rail project coming up in your city and the route that has to be laid is such that, your house which was built by your father's hard-earned money or an ancestral home has to be demolished, wouldn't you feel pathetic?? It is all the same.

I know when someone higher up the hierarchy reads this article, my appraisal or even my job is at stake. But, let me tell you, with my experience here in this place, I sometimes feel that uprising of Maoists is very much justified (although I don't support their acts). When they mean that they are poor and deprived, they are. I am very much aware that the money paid by Vedanta has given me the liberty to travel places, read literatures and write my opinions. But, someone has to be on the other side to deliver things to the world. My actions may not bring a change right now, but, my words would do, because I know this message would spread so that people will join me to oppose the non-sense and deliver a diplomatic solution to the affected.

The 4th idoit..

2009-12-29T11:23:00.006+05:30

DISCLAIMER: Do not ask me the authenticity of the title. This was suggested by my "friends", who desperately wanted me to write on a person whom they affectionately call "4th idoit". I will direct the Copyrights commission towards "my friends" if they feel that I am violating the norms. All characters in this story resemble very close to reality and any resemblance to people living or dead (let peace be upon them) is purely intentional.

There was this guy, the hero or rather the comedian of the story. His name was/is Sushil Gulati. He was/is the fun-loving guy who spent/spend most of his valuable time doing things which made any value-addition. He was/is smart, intelligent and handsome. He was/is a great guy to hang out with and a real crazy dude for bikes. After one and a half years of work, he was not sure of where he wanted to go. Not because he was confused with no choices, but, with plethora of choices. Anything that stands on the face of the earth interested/interests him and a very friendly guy. People love to talk to him and spend time with him always.

As his life was rollicking ahead, it so happened in his life that he met a good-looking girl called Pooja Tiwari. But, as he clearly explained to his mates that it was pure acquaintance that they meet each other, which his friends did not believe. The very thought that he went out for luncheons made them think that even and finally Sushil has fallen for Pooja. He tried explaining, but in vain. The acquaintance-turned-friendship relation was a small stint as Pooja had to move on in life. But, out of so many co-incidences, it so happened, that Sushil was equally frustrated with his work-life. To be precise, about his own value-addition. The pinnacle of his frustration was on the day Pooja was leaving the glorious city of Jharsz D.S, Odisha County, RoI. So, as small minds think/thought, it was because of the reason that she is leaving that Sushil is so frustrated. His friends coined him the name "4th idoit" in sync with the movie "3 idiots" being released and the instances that structured his part of life. In the world's eyes, Sushil remains a "4th idoit".

As he was/is a good writer too, they asked him to pen down his thoughts as well. Being a very close friend of Sushil, I tell you that Sushil is innocent and will like to be a 4th idoit. After all, people love to spend time with the 4th idoit and he rocks. And Pooja, if you reading this, do not call Sushil as "4th idoit", as you know the truth. :)

The 4th R

2009-11-09T11:17:00.008+05:30

After reading “2 states”, I have to write this – Yeah, We Tamilians, affectionately known as Madrasis are unique in every way. Just like a Punjabi, Marati, Malayalee, etc. None of the other 27 states speaks his tongue. But, a tad different from others, a Madrasi’s only weapon to counter-strike the Rest of India is his English. Well, Hindi is the Greek that he had been listening from the North Indians in The Madras state. My own experience of being a South Indian in North India for the very first time kicked the gut out of me. The same applies to a NI as well, when he visits the foreign states down south. Maybe, gut is not the word that should have been used, but, a euphemism does sound better. After all the crap that Indians listen from fellow-Indians, we feel like expatriates in our own country.

And, I just took a break after completing the previous paragraph to get some chicken. On the way to the chicken shop, I kind of very slightly skid my Bullet. In vain, I attracted attention from two drunkards on a “Definitely Male”. They chased me down till the butcher’s shop and abused me after confirming the fact that I am not from Odisha. Their feints were scary and the question of why they went that far is best answered, as they guessed that I am a Madrasi (although, I don’t look like one).

Thinking about a united India is a Utopian concept which has to be changed time and again. Aptly, should be changed according to the whims and fancies of our beloved politicians. Whether they learnt discipline and ethics from British is one I am confident that they haven’t, but, they have very well learnt the technology of “Divide and Rule”.

Indians are the most racist people in the world. This statement made by an Indian himself, iterates the fact that we are. Black and White, but, who remembers that we are all brown? We point at the species “down under” and call them racists for their attacks. I am not justifying their act, but, we need to be clean ourselves to point fingers at others.

The second question anyone faces is the place they hail from than how much educated they are. People are more curious to categorize people on the basis of region than intellectuality.

Indians are brilliant. They don’t ask the forbidden question – that of the religion. I brand them brilliant not because that top brass of any Fortune 100 company consists of Indians, but, because they quickly guess the guy’s faith with their name. The secondary branding that they go for, roots from the name. Did I miss the so-called “title” part? You must have guessed it being an Indian.

The 3Rs of Indians – Race, Region, Religion. We desperately need the 4thR – Redemption. We need to redeem ourselves from the narrow-mindedness of our thinking. The character – We all are Indians – has to be inculcated. I am not asking a Gujarati to marry an Assamese. But, I am asking you to think that, if such a thing happens, don’t embarrass them with questions. Accept them, respect them and appreciate them. They are the brave souls of the nation. Be proud that they are one of the few people like me to unite the nation (The 3Rs is applicable to me as well). We are not a Dravidian or an Aryan, a Madrasi or a Bangali, a Muslim or a Hindu, but, a redemption to seek – Indians.

Rob-ile

2009-06-17T21:00:00.009+05:30

This has been a long battle between me and the mobile phones that I have used over a period of four and a half years. I would not say I have been lucky, but, I have been horrendously amazed at the turn of events each time my phone was conked or chose its own way.

Chronological order:

1. Nokia 1100 - Oct, 2005.

My first phone cost me Rs.4500. The Made for India model was just launched and was an instant hit. I loved the phone very much. It had a torch and freaking monophonic tones. I used to fight with my mates over the Signature tones. One day in November, all of a sudden it was stolen from my hostel room. The irony being, a BenQ color mobile was kept right next to it, but, the thief loved mine.

2. Nokia 6670 - Dec, 2005.

After my first mobile loss, I wandered without a mobile for a month. It was a very difficult period. Finally, after lots of persuading and fights with my mom, she agreed to get me a Nokia 6600. I went to the shop and found the 6670 model attractive and bought that. It cost me Rs.13000. Never mind. Exactly a month after that, I drowned my new phone in the beaches of Mangalore. As expected the salts corroded the mother board and it was unusable.

3. Nokia 1100 (Second hand) - Jan, 2006.

It cost me Rs.1200. Was handy and useful until the BL-5C burst while charging. A different turn of events this time. The whole phone was shattered into pieces and also my plug-points.

4. Nokia 1108 - Jun, 2007.

This phone cost me Rs. 3000. It was a good one with moon-light display. Setting new records in the Snakes game was the favorite pass-time. One fine day in Jul, 2007 it slipped out of hands from first floor and LCD was damaged and there goes my fourth phone out of order. Anyhow, I was using it for some three months and the phone conked when I gave it for repairing.

5. Sony Ericsson w200i - Sep, 2007.

One lovely phone. It cost me Rs.5300. I thought my phone jinx is over and constrained only to Nokia as this was a super-specialty phone. No problems whatsoever. Had all the functions except for bluetooth which pissed off many of my friends. Was very much contended with it until, a thief broke into my house and robbed me off my personal diary on 16th, June, 2009. There ends my saga of events with the only phone in my hand being Nokia 1202C now.

6. Nokia 1202C - May, 2009

Cost - Rs.1350. Just for the plain fact that this phone offers brilliant battery back, I chose to buy and use it instead of my w200i then. But, out of no option now, I am forced to use this.

Total expense on mobile phones till date - Rs. 28350.00

What more can I ask for..??

Ithu namma Ooru, maamu.. (Its our city, dude..)

2009-05-31T12:18:00.008+05:30

Its five years now. Five long years since I have taken the internship with the Nomadic Society of India. And the internship is still going on, on and on and on. I was just a small little fellow in a big city. The city that is known for Idly, Marina, Super Kings and me. The city renamed after the Chennappa Nayaka who ruled it as the history would say it. But, I liked the old name, the ethnic heart-beat name as we are called, all over the world - Madrasi. Madras refers to the illicit yet camouflaged mix of MAD RAScals called by the British for their violent revolt down south. What is there in a name, but, we all love it. The new name is not that bad, but, people still love calling Kolkata as Calcutta; Mumbai as Bombay and Bengalluru as Bangalore. It is stylish, vibrant and pronounceable by all ethnic cultures.

This is a crazy capital. Just like the others, but, a little different in its own way. The city with the second longest beach in the world (Marina), the largest bus terminus in Asia (CMBT), the biggest eatables trading centre in India (Koyambedu Kothalchavadi), the most crowded place in anywhere in the world (T.Nagar), the most organized traffic police (CCTP), and the least affected city in terms of terrorism. Potentials untapped, yet, magnanimously giving space to every other person from the world to share his joy. Life seems so easy here. Might also be because it is my hometown. People say it is difficult to survive as people do not understand Hindi. The only counter-argument is when our language is one of the most primitive ones, even older than Sanskrit, why would we adopt a second fiddle? Yeah, we are international. The common people understand and will help you in English next to Tamil. All direction boards contain English to make it easy for everyone. It just inculcates the habit of going international to any illiterate who steps into.

I miss living in the city. The Marina, Elliot's beach, Chepauk, Mount road, Ritchie street, T.nagar, Anna flyover, Meenambakkam, 100 feet road, ECR, MRTS, Wandalur Zoo, Egmore Museum, Snake park, Satyam Cinemas, Ega theatre, Spencer Plaza, Koyambedu market, Ambattur Estate, PH Road, Aminjikarai, Vyasarpadi, Murugan Idili Shop, CMBT, Pallavan, Anna Tower, Crescent ground, my home in Razack Garden, everything. The best place in the universe just remains a part of my memory.

I write this now as a part of my internship of knowing the world better, sitting in my balcony watching the tall chimneys smoke and assimilating the bitter fact that I would not lead a normal life in the place, closest to my heart. Whenever I am there, I will be what I am, because I know for a fact that I don't need to wear a mask there. CHENNAI ROXXXXXX..

The Good, Bad and You..

2009-04-17T17:46:00.005+05:30

Being good is good. But, being too good is very bad. Straight trees are cut first whereas the crooked ones go unnoticed. There are two kinds of people. One is straight, hard-working and unsuccessful while the other being crooked, smart-working and successful. Yeah, look back at history and you will only find crooked people at top. No honest guy can ever come to the top. If a renowned person claims to be honest, it is very simple; he is not honest enough to accept that he was dishonest. If he accepts his dishonesty to prove that he is being honest, it is back to square one that he was not honest in the first place. None can be blamed for this as this is the law of nature. Even while climbing a ladder, you stamp on the same place where you once held your hand for support. Logically, dishonesty grows with us.

All is fair in love and war. But, there are no things in the world that we do, which are not categorized in either of them. We either do for love or for war. What we fail to realize is that, we do only good or bad things. The distinction is between good and bad. If we change our perspective a bit and view as a difference between good and better, there is a paradigm shift. Decision making becomes a lot easier when it is viewed through such a lens as the sadistic decision of yours would lead to do a good thing. Everyone is unique, just like everyone else. Decisions differ, after all life is a business and we all are businessmen. Some become entrepreneurs while others work for them. Now, the decision is yours on whom you want to become - Crooked, smart-working entrepreneurs or straight, hard-working labors?

G-2

2009-04-11T17:09:00.009+05:30

All I could see when I opened my eyes were shaded with brown. I was sleeping and all that I knew was that I was sleeping for long. I was sleeping at the bottom-most berth of the tube which was travelling at the speed of sound as I went deaf for long. Through the windows of the tube, I could again see the brown colored mud-mountains with patches of greenery on it. Time and again the tube passed through tunnels and I was searching for the light at the end of the tunnel. Once the light came, everything was back to brown. I went to the washroom, washed my eyes and checked if I was wearing any colored lens and found that I was not. I did not know where this journey was taking, but, the fact remains that I am a fugitive on the run. I know I will be caught sooner or later, but, I prefer to happy on the run knowing the fact that sadness is all I can have when it is all over. I remembered someone saying, "A fugitive on the run enjoys every moment of his freedom, because every moment ends on a happy note".

A co-passenger in the tube asked me what am I upto? For which I had no answer. All I came to know from the conversation was that I am alive and I am in the real-time world fighting inorder to survive. Time passed by looking out of the window at the browned-greenery, the villages that sped past until it became dark. I was still in the retrospective mood thinking about what led me to break the prison, what led me to this journey and I could not reason much with the unreasonable. As my only reason was freedom. As love is the root cause of every happening in this world, it must be my love for someone or something. With no hopes in heart and unknown miles to travel, I reached a tube-well next day afternoon. It was a bigger tube-well than the ones I have been to. It welcomed me with a warm, sunny reception with guards standing all over to check the logistics movement. With terrorism all around, humans are nowadays considered in the category of goods as the intrinsic value of a human life is degrading day by day. None identified me, as this part of the world had more serious issues to deal with than snooping behind a fugitive.

Wagging my way through, I reached a defunct chariot station. All luck taking over, I boarded some chariot with a huge capacity and the co-charioteers said that this chariot takes us to a place where heaven and hell meets. Who cares I thought. I am coming from hell and anyplace would definitely be better. After a rickety ride for an hour I got down at the tall-building side of this heaven-hell. There were flyovers of the modern world; there were buildings of ancient world too. There were palaces; there were other chariots of all shapes and sizes, of all designs and comforts. This place took my breath away and suddenly I received a call from a number.

I answered with a hello and the other side was a sweet voice, "Nautilus, walk straight down the road and take the black chariot. We are waiting inside".

I was shell-shocked. Who on earth would know that I am here? And who is this "We"? Picking up my back-pack with all my courage I made my way through to the black chariot that was waiting for me. I knocked on the door and yes my co-charioteers were right. I was in heaven. Angels live in heaven. God had sent the twin angels to take care of me, to hide me from the unscrupulous world.

They said, "Oh Nautilus brother! Get in. It is getting late. Now that you are here, we all will have a nice time".

With no second thoughts I got in. Zoom it went.

After some 15 minutes, I reached a palace. They took me in and introduced me to the mother of the angels and the formalities continued. They asked me, how am I doing and how is my health? I did answer it like an 8th standard schoolboy, but, I was confused if they knew the truth. I did not know if I had to tell them or not. Then it struck me. They are the sons and daughters of God and definitely they would know about me. I was taken to the special room of the palace, where they worship him. I was overwhelmed at their gesture. Offering his room to me was like telling, "Son, I trust you, no matter how bad you are".

Three days I was with them. It was a dream. The time that we spent together; the conversations that we had; the food that we ate; the time when we roamed; the dosa that we had; everything is still fresh in my mind. When the time was over and my nomadic destination changed, I had tears in my eyes when I was travelling back in another chariot to the tube-well. The next destination is not far away, but, nothing would be as great as that, with them in it.

No matter how much ever you run, you are caught in the last.

Recession

2009-03-16T23:14:00.004+05:30

One fine day, the banking corporations of America as a bolt from the blue, started flaunting one by one about their ease of lending housing loans. The scheme was loans to all the Americans who cannot own an apartment, even with their lifetime earnings. So, the birds of same feather flocked together to buy their piece of land which would stand against their name on the face of the earth. But, the amount of enthusiasm that one has in getting something is diametrically opposite to the amount that s/he shows in returning. As expected, the defaulters' percentage climbed in multiples of ten of Grameen Bank's. Then, the banks started losing their money. People started fearing and started withdrawing their savings. Credit crunch is created by a freaking concept of owning land on American soil. The ripple effect affects the rest of the world. Every corporation in the world starts to hear the dreaded word "recession".

"Global economic slowdown yaar"

"Cost reduction is on"

"Global recession"

"Economic slump"

"If the conditions carry on, The Great Depression isn't that far"

But, during all these times a chaiwala from Mumbai can win two million dollars and eight Oscars. What a pity?

The rich is as safe as he was, but a little tension about how to maintain the earning tempo going. The poor is as safe as he ever would be, because more would be joining him. He can shoulder them and listen to their poor stories and be grateful that he was not what they are. Who are the affected ones?

The common man a.k.a aam aadmi.

Why should he be affected just because someone wanted to own a piece of land which they own even now happily? Next step the GOI takes is to pump in hypothetical cash - 100 crores into RBI, 500 crores into services industry, etc. crap. Because, aam aadmi still remains a fool thinking that somewhere that 100 odd crores that is being pumped in will reach him in some form. He still does not understand the psychological game of recession. There is nothing as recession. It is an illusion created by banks to get their money back that they poorly planned with the sub-primal Americans. A house for every American robbed the house of every other common man. Why should we suffer for their intelligence failure in planning? Optimists say no reward without risks. But, why should Raja bore the brunt for Andrew's risk? That is because Raja et al. are meticulously webbed in this net of globalization, without their knowledge. One kills a person and is called an assassin, one kills hundreds and is called a terrorist, but, one kills millions and is called a conqueror. That is the basic difference. We all need to realize that we need to start spending to combat the global recession. We are the ones who need to pump the cash in and not the imbecile GOI. One last suggestion, if you are not able to spend properly or maintain the cash inflow, kindly transfer the money to my bank account. I will do the needful :).

And as the textbook says, friends do not judge each other. So, save the world from recession, after all Americans are the friendliest people on earth.

Open mind for a different view

2009-03-15T04:59:00.007+05:30

How many of you have dared to say this to your boss? "I don't give a fuck". Just how many of you? Everyone has said it, without the lips moving, but, how many to the ones to whom it was meant to be? We do not say it, not because we lack courage, but, because we do not want to sour things up. We then pretend to be what we are not, do and say things that our heart dislikes. I don't give a fuck is almost as same as I love you. Here too we lack the gut factor, which might sour things up. Why? It is a simple reason. Rationally, for every action, there are three outcomes. Our point of view, the other's point of view and the truth. We are just open to our point of view that we tend to forget the truth. In the process of assessing the other’s point of view we again forget the truth. The truth is just ask this question to yourself "What will you do, if you weren't afraid?" You get an answer that is your heart's point of view. Ask this question "What is the stake?" Answer to this question will be your head's point of view. Strike a balance and you get your point of view. Oh! If you are a thinker, then think about yourself in the other's shoe. Ask the same pair of questions and you just get a hint of what his/her point of view because you are just wearing his/her shoes and mind you not the entire attire. After all this comes the truth. How? Get along and discuss it with each other and you arrive at it, because, my perspective is not yours and yours' is not his'. Open your mind and let it seep in and then say it loud and clear "I don't give a fuck" because if you really meant it, you would not have put the thinking cap on. You just would have said "I don't give a fuck".